The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 18, 1904, Page 11

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. ——————————————————————————————————————————————————— ————————————————————————————————— ————————————————eeeerertereeeeeee ettt Se————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— Supposing I made up my mind to mMarry some one of good enough family, t who was in a somewhat doubtful position, concerning whose antecedents, in amount of stand by me— she exclaimed. well that I sho subject M her into to back be do he CHAPTER XI1V. The Poster of “Al ¥ mornings t “Here m a superior is my need erumpled-up waistcoat pocket. A ding disaster was upon glanced at it, and " he exclaimed, the waiting- hed in hand was nged finger ,” he said 1 unexpected e in, do. I ung puppy of wn that you t have been sh & for took a good de £ it was all she 1d do to follow Earles with composure into the er room. There was a little mur- mur of consternation from the waiting crowd, and the florid young woman chowed signs of tempx to which Mr. Earles was absolutely indifferent. He installed Anna in a comfortable easy chair and placed his own between her and the 4 rise Anna, r. he said, “this is capital— was only a few months Come,” capital It ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at me. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. By the b; he a d, in & suddenly altered tone, “I hope, I trust—that you have not en- tes ea) ir.l? any arrangements with any ne here?™ no!” Anna eaid, a little “I have made no arrange- ments as yet—none at all.” ries recovered his spirits. xcellent!” he exclaimed. “Your arrival is really most opportune. The hells are on the lookout for something r.;u By the by, do you recognize that? Anna looked and gasped. An enor- mous poster almost covered ome side of the wall—the poster. The figure of the girl upon it in plain bleck dpess, stending with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of ar- ranging the hair. Mr. Earies regarded it approvingly. “A wonderful piece of work,” he de- clared. “A most wonderful likeness, 200. I hope in & few days, Miss Pel- lissler, that these posters will be lven- ing up our London hoardings.” Anna leaned back in the chair and laughed softly. Even ti man had accepted her for “Alcide” without a moment’s question. Then all the em- barrassments of the matter flashed in upon her. She was suddenly grave. “l suppose, Mr. Earles,” she said, “that if I were to tell you that although that poster was designed from & rough study of me, and although my name is Pellissier, nevertheless, I am not ‘Al- cide,” would you believe me?” “You can try it on, if you like,” Mr. Earles remarked genially. “My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster, The poster is of ‘Alcide.’ It's a dupli- cate of the French one.” Anna got up and looked at the mir- nd then at the poster. The like- ridiculous. she said, sitting down again. engagement.” * Mr. Earles declared. “Any to which of the halls?” You and choose, you know. I rec- mend the ‘Universa).’ ” ' Anna declared. Mr. Earles said, eeping his eyes fixed upon her, the ‘Universal’ two turns, ncores voluntary, six for matinees. Ve should not bar any engas: at private houses, but in other r the arrangement must be exclusive.” “Forty wha Anna asked bewil- dered Wel “I want a “Capital ‘Guineas, of course,” Earles an- swered, glibly Forty guineas a week. 1 méntioned I believe, when I was in Paris there are expenses, and just iness is bad.” Anna was speechle: but she had the enough to sit still f. Mr. Earles She appeared centured, “I could Alhambra.” Very ould give — “l1 should be satisfied with the sum you mention,” Anna said quietly, “but there are difficultie: Don’t use such a word, my dgar voung lady,” Mr. Earles said persua- sively Difficulties indeed. We'll make short work of them.” ¢ that you ma Anna an- swer T natically. “In the first Ave they ) not w no objection to the posy have no name on them, h to appear at all upon *Alcide.’ If you engage upon my own merits. as king it for granted that I am ‘Alcide.” As a matter of fact, I am not Excuse me Mr. Earles said, “but this is rubbish.” " 1 it what you like,” Anna an- i. “I can sing the songs ‘Alcide’ and in the same style. But 1 be engaged as ‘Alcide’ or ad- d under that name.” Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. He slapped his knee. v Jove he exclaimed. “Of course, I remember mow. It w your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn't 1t?” Anna nodded “It was,” she admitted. You needn’t say a word more,” Mr. larles declared I see the difficulty. been ng on you sister to ke off the a prig to the-finger tips, —doesn’t know what an s awkward, but we'll get ehow. Now I'll tell you rse Let me run yeu for I'll give you, say, 35 week clear of expenses, and nything you earn above the a night. What do you I pr ntk turns Anna said coldly, “if you it three month say six,” Mr. Earles protest- himself before the desk and his pen in the ink. Anna decided gives me a chance,” Mr. 1 with a resigned sigh, “but upon you to stick to me I do the right thing by u can’t do without an agent, no one who can run you firmly. “I must > put in the agree- er Anna said, “that I do not rep- sent myself to be ‘Alcide,” and that vertised to the public by exclamation. this way,” “Come he said. the door of still another corner of which was a He seated himself be- opened to the far corner last verse of ‘L he said, s Petites. and Anna respond- with cne hand, he turned ol to at her. In- she had fallen into the pos- poster, her hands behind 1 bent slightly forward, ted, her eyes bright with f the song. Mr. Earles o with a little bang. a funny, a very funny he said. “But we waste You do not need my com- and stinctivels f the We will get on with the T and you shall have in it - rubbish you like.” ghed and went back to her She knew that her voice was superior to Annabel’s, and she had no further qualms. While she was wondering how to frame her request for an advance Mr. Earles drew out his checkbook. You will not object,” he said, glancing toward her, “to accepting a deposit. It is customary, even where an agreement is drawn. “I shall have no objection at all,” Anna assured him. He handed her a check for 31 pounds 10 shillings and read® the agree- ment through to her. Anna took up the pen and signed after a moment's hesitation, A. PELLISSIER. “I will send you a copy,” Mr. Earles said, rubbing his hands together, “by post. Now, will you do me the honor of lunching with me, Miss Pel- lissier 7 erhap avoid being seen about with any one— er—connected with the profession, un- der present circumstances. If so, do not hesitate to tell me. Be frank, I beg you, Miss Pellis: r. I am already too much flattered that you should have given me your confidence.” “You are very good, Mr. Earles, Anna said. “I think, perhaps if you will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon. “Just as you wish,” Mr. Earles de- clared good-humoredly, “but I shall not let you go without drinking a glass of ‘wine to our sucess.” He plunged into one of his drawers and brought up a small gold-foiled bottle. The cork came gut with a loud pop, and Anna could not help wonder- ing how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside. She drank her glass of wine, however, and clanked glases good-naturedly with Mr. Earles. “You must leave me vour address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. She wrote it down. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Universal’ to-morrow morning,” he said. “Bring any new songs you may have.” Anna nodded, and Mr. Earles attend- ed her obsequiously to the door. She descended the stairs, and found her- self at last in the street—alone. It was a brief solitude, however. A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the op- posite side of the way, came quickly over to her. She looked up, and recog- nized Mr. Brendon. CHAPTER XV. “He Will Not Forget.” The external changes in Brendon fol- lowing on his alteration of fortune were sufficiently noticeable. From head to foot he was attired in the famuble garb of the young man of the ent. Not only that, but he carried himself erect—the slight slouch which had bent his shoulders had _altogether disap- peared. He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. “Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what vou are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbo: hood for walking about by yoursel ‘I plead guilty, Miss Pellissier,” he answered at once. “I saw you go into that place, and T have been waiting for you ever since.” ‘I am not sure whether I feel inclined to scold or thank you,” she declared. “I think as I feel in a good humor it must be the latter.” He faced her doagedly. ““Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I am go- ing to take a liberty.” me, she murmured, t think that I have been play- ing the upon you,” he continued. “Neither Svdney nor I would think of such a thing. But we can't help noticing. Ycu have been going out every morning and coming home late —tired out—too ‘tired to come down to dinner. Forgive me, but you have been looking, have you not, for some employment ?” “Quite true!” she answered. *“I have found qut at last what a useless person I amr—from a utilitarian point of view. It has been very humiliat- “And that, I suppose,” he sald, waving his sgck toward Mr. Earles’ office, “was yBur last resyorce.” “It certainly was,” she admitted. “I changed my last shilling yesterday. He was silent for a moment or two. His lips were tight drawn. His eyes flashed as he turned toward her. “Do you think it is kind of you, Miss Pellissier,” he said, almost roughly, “to ignore your friends so? In your. heart you know quite well that you could pay Sydney or me no greater compliment than to give us just a little of your confidence. We know London, and you are a stranger here. Surely our advice would have been worth having at any rate. You migh¢ have spared yourself many use- less jqurneys "and disappointments, and us &*good deal of anxiety. Instead you are willing to go to a place like that where you ought not to be al- lowed to think of showing yourself.” “Why not?” she asked quietly. “The very question shows vour ig- norance,” he declared. “You know nothing about the stage. You haven't an idea what the sort of employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you would be mixed up with.. It is positively hateful to think of it.” She lald her fingers for a moment upon his arm. “*Mr. Brendon,” she said, “if I could ask advice or borrow money from any one I would from you—thert! But I cannot. I never could. I suppose I ought to have been a man. You see, I have had to look after myself so long that I have developed a terrible bump of independence.” “Such independenct he answered quickly, “is a vice. You see to what it has brought you. You are going to accept a post as chorus girl, or super, or something of that sort.” 5 “You do not flatter me,” she laughed. “I am too much in earnest,” he an- swered, "to be able to take this matter lightly.” “I am rebuked,” she declared. “I suppose my levity is incorrigible. But seriously, things are not so bad as you think."” v He groaned. “They never seem so at first!” he said. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. “I will tell you the truth. It is true that I have accepted an en- gagement from Mr. Earles, but it is a good one. I am mnot going to be a chorus girl, .or even a super.. I have never told you so, or Sydney, but I can sing—rather well. - When my father died and we were left alone in.Jersey I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing pro- fessionally or try painting. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains.” “You are really going on the stage then?” he said slowly. “In a sense—yes.” Brendon went very pale. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’ “Why not?” she sald, smiling. *I must live, you know.” “I haven't told any one the amount,” he went on. *“It sounds too LS SELFY SYLLENL ¥~ Y TIIE GRASE OF Z GIAXNT - vV v Asa ridiculous. thousand pounds. me Anna looked at him in blank amfzement. Then she burset into a peal of laughter. “My dear boy,/ “How ridiculous! But Igbave two hundred Will you marry she exclaimed. Fancy you . with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, don’t go about playing the Don Quixote like this. It doesn’t mat- ter with me, but there aresat least a dozen young women in Mr. Earle's waiting-room who would march you straight off to a registrar’s office.” “You have not answered my ques- tion,” he reminded her. 3 “Nor am I going to,” she answered smiling. “I am going to ignore it. It was really nice of you, but to-morrow you will laugh at it as I do now.” “Is it necessary,” he said, “for me to tell you—" “Stop, please,” she said firmly. Brendon was silent. “Do not force me to take you se- riously,” she continued. “I like to think of your offer. It was impulsive and natural. Now let us forget it.” “I understand,” he said, doggedly. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. “I will tell you something if you like. One of the rea- sons why I left Paris and came to London was because there was a man there who wanted me to marry him. I really cared for him a little, but I am absolutely determined not to marry for some time at any rate. I do not want to get only a second- hand flavor of life. One can learn and understand only by personal expe- rience, by actual contact with the re- alities of life. I did not want any- “thing made ‘smooth and easy'for me. That is why I would not marry this man, whom I'did and do care for a little. Later on—well then the time may come.. Then perhaps I shall sehd for him if he has not forgotten.” “I'do not know who he is,” Brendon said quietly, “but he will not forget.” Anna shrugged her shoulders lightly. “Who can tell?” she said. “Your sex is a terrible fraud. It is generally deficient in the qualities it prides it- self upon most. Men do not under- stand constancy as women do.” -l . e Brendon was not inclined to be away from the point. “We will take it then,” he said, “that you have refused or ignored one request I have made you this morning. I have yet another. Let me lend you some money. Between comrades it is the most usual thing in the world, and I do not ‘see how your sex intervenes. Let me keep you_from that man’s clutches. ‘Then we can look together for such -employment—as would be more suitable for you. I know Lon- don better than you, and I have had to earn my own living. You cannot refuse me this.” He looked at her anxiously and she met his glance with a dazzling smile of gratitude. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. But it is no longer necessary. I can- not tell you much about'it, but my bad times are over for the present. I will tell you what you shall give me, iIf you like.” “Well?” “Lunch! hungry.” « He called for a hansom. “After all,” he said, “I am not sure that you are not a very material per- son.” “I am convinced of it,” she answered. “Let us go to that little place at the back of the Palace. I'm not half smart enough for the West End.” “Wherever you like!"” he answered, a little absently. They alighted at the restaurant, and stood for a moment in the passage looking into the crowded.room. Sud- denly a half stifled exclamation broke from Anna's lips. Brendon felt his arm seized. In a moment they Were in the street outside. Anna jumped into a waliting hansom. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. Brendon told him the name of a dis- tant restaurant and sprang in by her side. She was looking anxiously at the entragce to the restaurant. The com- missionaire stood there, tall and imper- turbable. There was no one else in the doorway. She leaned back in the cor- ner of the cab with a little sigh of re- lef. A smile flickered upon her ljps as she glanced toward Brendon, who was very serious indeed. Her sense of hu- mor could not wholly resist his abnor- mal gravity. “I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself. I saw e one in there whom I have al- ways hoped that I should never see again. ,I hope—I am sure that he did not see me.” gllow you “He ‘certainly did " not out,” Brendon answered. “Hig back was toward me,” Anna . I am hungry—tragically said. “I saw his face in a mirror. I wonder—" “London is a huge place,” Brendon said. “Even if he lives here you may go all your life and never come face to face with him again.” CHAPTER XVI. “This Is My Wife.” Anna, notwithstanding her mo- mentary fright in the middle of the day, was in high spirits. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. Beyond that every- thing was nebulous. She knew that in her new role she was as likely a 0t to be a rank failure. But the rellef from the strain of her immediate ne- ities was immense. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded and had chattered gayly to every one. Now in her old place she was doing her best thoroughly to enjoy a most indifferent dinner. ‘“Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney between the courses. He nodded. “Yes, David left this afternoon. I do not think that he has quite got over his surprise at finding you established here.” She laughed. “After all, why should he be sur- prised ?” she remarked. “Of course, cne lives differently in Paris, but then —Paris is Paris. I think that a board- ing-house is the very best place for a woman who wants to develop her sense of humor. Only I wish that it ot remind oné much of a sec- 1d clothes shop. ey looked at her doubtfully. ‘Now I suppose Brendon under- stands exactly what you rr 4 marked. “He looks as tho e did, at any rate. Idon’t! Please enlighten She laughed gayly—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her bea tiful white teeth, so that mirth her was a thing very much to be sired. Look round the table,” she said. “Aren’t we all just odds and ends of humanity—the t-ove u know. There is something onglomerate about us. We are amiable to one an- We car other, but we don’t mix. 4 get on 1. ou and I and Brendon right, don’t we?”" Sydney objecte “We may be exceptions,” Anna an- swered. “We can’t disprove the theory Begides, I am thinking more of our relations with the rest of the world than with one another. There's old Mr. Carter, for instance. He has grandchildren and nephews, but they won't have anything to do with him. They know that he has an evil temper, a wretched di tion and nothing be- yond his pension. He's a left- and so he's drifted here. Then tk Mrs. Shaw. She has two married daughters, but their husbands are do- ing well and getting their noses into, at any rate, what they imagine to be soctety. Mrs. Shaw eats peas with her ®knife. Ergo, Mrs. Shaw remains here. She; too, is a left-over. Miss Elli- cot' and her mother have plenty af" relatives. They won't hi the girl to live with them because she wants to marry every man she meets, and isn’t clever enough to hide it. Miss Ellicot, too, is a left-over.” “How about Brendon and me?” ney asked. “You two? Oh, you don’t are only boys!” Anna laughe “I am 26 years old,” Brend “and I object to being considered any- thing of the sort. I do not mind being called a left-over, but I object to not counting.” “Well, then, you shall count for what you like,” Anna a vered good-humor edly, “but you are neither of you in th all Syd- least like the ordinary boardi house young man. u don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your buttonhole or last night's shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawin room in the evening or play at being musical. Besides She stopped shor She herself. and one other there, recognized the inter- position of something akin to tragedy A thickly set, sandy young man, with an unwholésome complexion and grease- smooth haiy, had entered the room. He wore a black tail coat buttoned tightiy over his chest, and a large diamond pin sparkled in a white satin tie which had seen better davs. He bowed awk- wardly to Mrs. White, who held out her hand and beamed a welcome upon him. “Now, isn't this nice!” that lady ex- claimed. “I'm sure we're all delighted to see you again, Mr. Hill. I do like to tee old friends back herel If there's any one here whom you have not met I will make you acquainted with them . Will vou take your old Ellicot?" cot swept aside her skirts from the vacant chair and welcomed the newcomer with one of her most en- gaging smiles. “We were afraid that-you had desert- ed us for good, Mr. Hill,” she said gra- ciously. *I suppose Paris is very, very distracting. You must come and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall forgive you for not having written to any of us.” Mr. Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess and salutations around the table. “Thank vou, s back, I'ny sure,” he said bri like old times here, I see. bit late the first evening. in the city, and—" Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eéyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. “‘Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. “Why—it's—it's you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the tor- rents of his speech. The girl regarded him with the face of a sphinx. Only in her eves there seemed tp be some ap- prehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. “I am afrald that you are making a mistake. I am quite sure that I do not know you.” A dul! flush burned upon his cheeks. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. “Don’t know me, eh? I like that. You are—or rather you were—" he eor- rected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, en?” A little sensation fcilowed upon his words. Miss Ellicot pursed her lips and sat a little more upright. The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed.» Mrs. White became conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness and showed it in her face. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. On the other hand the two young mer who sat on either side of Anna were alread$ throwing murder- ous glances at the newcomer. “My name,” Anna replied calmly, “is certainly Pellissier, but I repeat that I do not know you. I have never known you.” . He unfcided his serviette with fin- gers which shook all the time. His eyes never left her'face. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. “T've plenty of pals,” he said, “who, when they’'ve been doing Paris on the Q. T., like to forget~all about it—even their names. But you—" Something seemed to catch RQis breath. He never finished his sen- tence. There was a moment’s breath- less and disappointed silence. If he had only known it, sympathy was al- 3lad to get y. “Looks Sorry I'm a Got detained . most entirely with him. Anna was no favorite at No. 13 Montague street. She shrugged her shoulders. “You appear,” she said, without any sign of anger in her tone, and with unfuffled composure, “to be a very im- pertinent person. Do you mind talking to some one else?” Mrs. White' leaned forward in her fhair with an anxious smile designed ) throw ofl upon the troubled e,” she said. “We mustn’t have any unpleasantness, and Mr. Hill's first night back among us, too. No doubt there’s some little mistake. We all get deceived sometimes. Mr. Hfll, I hope you won't find everything cold. You're @ little Jate, you must remember, and We are punctus e here.” “I shall do v well. thank you, ma'am,” he answered shortly. Sydney and Brendon vied with one another in their eff. s to engage Anna in conversation and Miss Ellicot, dur- ing the momentary lull, deemed it a favorable oppor siege operatic mollified by b ed by the of the recommence ung man was and flatte ! of sev draw him ¥ now of the al into then his tion. he progress attention apparently leaning forward, he at Anna with a pressions on hi v nice clare left hand sir,” his myself, but Doctor’s or y name’s Car- you don’t re- welcome you 1 Mr. Hill an- btful whether I shall Carter re ne he leaned n thg g man's it young >man’s Iad d let- f She’s t unpopular ; . and looked > young mar first t eighbor. Mr. vas undersize. His cheeks were his color un- wholesome. had a curfous habit of holding his head on one side when he talked and he blinRed continually. He was nearer 60 than 50. He af- fected to be a student of life. His pet wealkn: were to pose as a > 1 to be regarded as an eligible achelor. He lived on an annuity of y studying the p In for the whole evening. au fait with the latest Anna did consta arter, after eathless ' mo- ments opportunity of finishing 1 gallant- Iy into the br “You could No doubt settle her hash, that. time. I'm soon I've had Between urprised ery sur- v a very 1 quite su- ding there was »out hey're easy t they, Mr. to be uncharit- to be friends but I lly am forced the line at a young woman culiar habits.” emitted a sound which was ng betwen wuckle and a t light gleamed in aren I'm w any he muttered. 1 hard inte her well for men to but her posi- any was a difficult one. She was obliged to b 3 “I shoulc¢ g0 € s to maks that sort,” she said. Pellisster claims derhaps, t some extra because she is, or s herself an artist “Gone back he? he remarked under | Has she get up a stuc If she ha M ot sald, “no one ever s rd of it. It's my belief that t g ‘a * covers a very great deal groun he’s out all day, but w 1t she does with herself no one Knows. r k »u remember Mr. tlaw and M who are sitting on either si The way she behaves with them is really—inde- corous. They whisy and laugh to- gether all through and scarcely speak to any on which at a boarding-house t: where we are all supposed to be fr s and one family #o to speak, is not my idea of good manners. And then afterwards — you will reely believe this, but it is ab- solutely true. Coffee, as I daresay you remember, is always. served in the drawing-room immediately after din- ner, and as a rul vhatever our en- gagements for the evening may be, we all have a sociable few minutes there. Mrs. White is very considerate, and she allows the gentlemen their cigarettes. Miss Pellissier came in once—the sec- ond night she was here. She made a wry face at the coffee, which was per- haps not quite so strong as usual, and since then, Mr. Hill, every evening she takes those two young gentlemen up into her own room and makes coffee there in some sort of a ridiculous ma- chine. I don’t know what you think of that, but I call it & most improper proceeding.” “No doubt about it,” Mr. Carter de- clared cheerfully. “Most improper. I wonder Mrs. White permits it. She ought to be spoken to.” “I don’t think,” Miss Ellicot con- tinued, “that young ladles who are living alone like Miss PeMissier, and I might say myself, for mother s so often away, can be too particular. Personally I should be very sorry indeed to do anything which could give rise to so much comment.” “Quite right, quite right, Miss Eli- cot. I am sure you would,” Mr. Carter declared. But it was not Mr. Carter’s approval for which Miss Elllcot was anxious. She glanced tentatively at her neigh- bor. He seemed to be paying very lit- tle attention either to his dinner or to her. He was watching Anna with fre- quent stealthy and somber glances. Miss Ellicot could not be sure even that he had been listening. He had the air of a man curiously absorbed. Anna rose a few minutes before the general®company. As though to bear witness to the trugh of Miss" Ellicot's grave charges, Sydney and Brendon also vacated their places. To reack the docr they had to pass the end of the table, and behMd the chair whers Mr. Hill was seated. He rosa deliber- ately to his feet and confronted them. “T should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, drop- ping his voice a little. “It Is no good playing a game. We had better have it over.”