They both turned round at Anna's exclamation. A familiar figure was
making his way towards them. Sydney sprang up.
"Why, it's David!" he exclaimed. "Hullo!"
Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took
Anna's hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of
content. He was introduced to Brendon, and a chair was brought by an
attentive waiter. He declined supper, but took wine.
"Have you dropped from the skies?" Sydney asked wonderingly. "It was
only yesterday I had your letter, and you never mentioned coming
over."
"I had some unexpected business," Courtlaw answered shortly.
"And how did you find us here?"
"I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. Mrs.
White told me where to find you."
He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. Yet either the rest or
the wine seemed already to have done him good. The lines about his
mouth gradually softened. He talked very little and rather absently.
In no way could he be said to contribute to the gaiety of the little
party. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna's ear.
"Please let me drive you home. I want to talk to you, and I must
return to-morrow."
Anna hesitated.
"We are Mr. Brendon's guests," she said, "and I scarcely think it
would be nice of me to leave him alone with Sydney."
Courtlaw turned abruptly to Brendon.
"Mr. Brendon," he said, "may I rob you of your guest just for the
drive home? I have only a few hours in England, and Miss Pellissier is
an old friend."
"By all means," Brendon answered. "We will follow you in another cab."
They passed out on to the pavement, and the commissionaire called a
hansom. The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and
as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her
hand. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. It was a letter. She
slipped it calmly into her pocket. The commissionaire smiled. It was a
sovereign easily earned.
The hansom drove off. Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and
imprisoned in Courtlaw's burning fingers. She glanced into his face.
It was enough.
"I have stood it for a month, Anna," he exclaimed. "You will not even
answer my letters. I could not keep away any longer."
"Do you think that it was wise of you, or kind to come?" she asked
quietly.
"Wise! Kind! What mockery words are! I came because I had to. I cannot
live without you, Anna. Come back--you must come back. We can be
married to-morrow in Paris. There! You are trying to take your hand
away."
"You disappoint me," she said wearily. "You are talking like a boy.
What is the use of it? I do not wish to marry you. I do not wish to
return to Paris. You are doing your best to break our friendship."