And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night. As soon as the latter beheld him, she uttered a loud scream, and fainted. ‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. CHAPTER III.
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