Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. I thought that Hill was dead, but I was frightened, and I wanted to get away from Paris. You will make her suffer. I could not keep away any longer. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. ‘You will not, pig,’ cried Melusine. So here is your chance, Mademoiselle Charvill. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent.
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