In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. By-the-bye,” he added, in a suddenly altered tone, “I hope, I trust—that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one here?” “I—oh no!” Anna said, a little faintly. " "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted.
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