“Anna,” he cried eagerly. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. S. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. Directly he saw Anna he accosted her. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit.
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