” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. He was made welcome as McClintock's agent; but he politely declined all the proffered courtesies. ‘Poor things. "No, lad," said McClintock, his tone becoming kindly. “Anna!” she repeated. ‘I did not think so. “All right, Dunster,” he said. ‘He just came. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Nor had Jack been idle all this time. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her.
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