At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. Anna was more difficult. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. His face fell. ” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield.
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