"Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. "Go to your own room, woman, directly, or I'll make you!" "Make me!" echoed Mrs. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. A crowd was collected round the fellow, who was rapidly disposing of his stock. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. ” It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange and unexpected places.
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