“I don’t care a rap for remembering. Ennison, if at all,” Anna declared calmly. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. What right had a young woman to possess the scarring and intimate knowledge of that dreg of human society, the beachcomber? CHAPTER II Ah Cum lived at No. He did not leave much of an 17 impression.
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