‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. " "What does it signify?" returned the latter, angrily. She shrugged her shoulders. Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. “I may as well come up by this train. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters.
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