She was nearly dead. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. I may tell him, at any rate, that you will see him?” “I shall like to see him,” Anna answered. Kneebone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
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