He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. “I find it very hard to write this letter. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. This man’s name is Montague Hill. All my plans have succeeded. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. ” For a moment Mr. ” “Bring me a whisky and soda, and a box of cigarettes,” Ennison answered, “and then leave me alone, there’s a good fellow. By-the-bye,” he added, in a suddenly altered tone, “I hope, I trust—that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one here?” “I—oh no!” Anna said, a little faintly. ” “Check for yourself in the driveway.
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