where I live?' 'Yes, I do,' said the child, nodding. 'I know who is your next-door neighbor.' 'Who is that?' says the old woman. "Why, mother says you are next door to a fool!'"
But Frank did not smile. It is curious that a man's sense of humor is usually entirely in abeyance when matters of stern import engross him, while a woman's is usually at its keenest when tragedy is in the air.
"What do people think at the hotel?" he burst out in the undertone both had maintained throughout the conversation.
"That I am a widow," she said coolly; "that is to say, if they turn up the hotel list of visitors."
"What name have you inscribed?" he said coldly.
"Fenella Ffrench. I suppose I have a right to my own name?"
"And the child's?"
"Ronny Onslow."
"What are your trustees about?" he broke out, with subdued passion.
Fenella shrugged her slender shoulders, and laughed. "I was twenty-four years old yesterday," she said, with apparent irrelevance; "did you remember?"
"I remembered," he said curtly.
"Talking of trustees," she said, "will you ever forget the talk, and fuss, and documents that day at Carlton House Terrace? I couldn't help
