For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. ” He said nothing for a space. Why? What is she to you?” “I was there by accident,” Ennison answered. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room.
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