. . ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. ” “It’s these Rascals,” said Mr. " "I'll bring you an armful this afternoon. ” “The posters at least,” Anna answered quietly, “I have some claim to. ” “You, then,” he said, “are ‘Alcide. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. ” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. I wanted the magic of love.
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