” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. ’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes. "Some one must have assisted him. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. She felt the whack from about six feet away, kitty corner.
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