found her hand being warmly shaken. Then the man took the chair reserved
for Mr. Smith, just as she realized fully that he wasn't Mr. Smith. Her
heart was beating fast, her eyes--fixed on the man's face, waiting for
some explanation--were dilated.

"Thank you," he said, leaning toward her, in his hand a menu which the
waiter had placed before the girl while she was still alone. She noticed
that the hand was brown and nervous-looking, the hand of a man who might
be a musician or an artist. He was pretending to read the menu, and to
consult her about it. "You're a true woman, the right sort--brave. I
swear I'm not here for any impertinence. Now, will you go on helping me?
Can you keep your wits and not give me away, whatever happens?"

"I think so," answered the new Annesley. "What do you want me to do?" She
took the pitch of her tone from his, speaking quietly, and wondering if
she would not wake up in her ugly brown bedroom at Mrs. Ellsworth's, as
she had done a dozen times when dreaming in advance of her rendezvous at
the Savoy.

"It will be a shock when I tell you," he answered. "But for Heaven's
sake, don't misunderstand. I shouldn't ask this if it weren't absolutely
necessary. In case a man comes to this table and questions you, you must
let him suppose that you are my wife."

"Oh!" gasped Annesley. Her eyes met the eyes that seemed to have been
waiting for her look, and they answered with an appeal which she could
not refuse.

She did not stop to think that if the dark eyes had not been so handsome
they might have been easier to resist. She--the suppressed and timid