paragraph, therefore the sensation, whatever it was, must have happened
when Knight and the Countess de Santiago were on board, coming to
England, and she could easily learn what it was by inquiring.

Not for the world, however, would she question her lover, to whom the
subject of the trip was evidently distasteful. Still less would she ask
the Countess behind his back.

There was another way in which she could find out a sly voice seemed to
whisper in Annesley's ear. She could get old numbers of the _Morning
Post_, the only newspaper that entered Mrs. Ellsworth's house, and search
for the paragraph. But she was ashamed of herself for letting such a
thought enter her head. Of course she would not be guilty of a trick so
mean. She would not try to unearth one fact concerning her Knight--his
name, his past, or any circumstances surrounding him, even though by
stretching out her hand she could reach the key to his secret.

He talked of things which at another time would have palpitated with
interest: their wedding, their honeymoon, their homecoming, and Annesley
responded without betraying absent-mindedness. It was the best she could
do, until the effect of the "biggest favour" and the doubts it raised
were blurred by new sensations. She would not have been a normal woman if
the shopping excursion planned by Knight had not swept her off her feet.

The man with Fortunatus' purse seemed bent on trying to empty
it--temporarily--for her benefit: if she had been sent out alone to buy
everything she had ever wanted, with no regard to expense, Annesley
Grayle would not have spent a fifth of the sum he flung away on evening
gowns, street gowns, boudoir gowns, hats, high-heeled paste-buckled
slippers, a gold-fitted dressing-bag, an ermine wrap, a fur-lined