He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded.
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