"Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. ” Drummond, a few years older, dark, clean-shaven, with bright eyes and humorous mouth, laid down his paper and turned towards Sir John. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. And they’ll shut the gates presently. “You must remember,” she said, “that you yourself are responsible for your altered looks.
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