’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. ” He shook his head, and threw open the door of a great dimly-lit apartment on the ground floor. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings.
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