” “It’s the perpetual trouble,” he said, “of parent and child. Ever and again Capes appealed to Ann Veronica. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. When she saw Ann Veronica she stood for a moment as if entranced, and then advanced with outstretched hands. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. “It was my sister Anna. " "Conduct me to your dwelling, Sir, without further delay," said Trenchard, sternly,—"to the boy. "By means of the watchman who had the charge of me," replied Thames. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. Challenge accepted.
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