Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. To think of him as loving her would make all that different. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. ’ ‘This is what you say of him? Me, I find he is growling all the time like a dog. CHAPTER XIX.
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