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Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. Anna found herself next Sydney Courtlaw, with his friend close at hand. Wait, though. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. To call yourself ‘Alcide’! Your hair, your gestures, your voice, all mine! Oh, how dared you do it?” “You must not forget,” Anna said calmly, “that it is necessary for me also—to live. You are not unlike Pandora. I'm having some unexpected guests. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand.
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