And yet it did not seem to be
herself, but something within, stronger than she, that suddenly took
control of her.
"Why should I not wish to tell you?" the Something was saying. "The name
is the same as your own--Smith. Nelson Smith." And before the words had
left her lips a taxi drew up at the door.
There was one instant of agony during which the previous suspense seemed
nothing--an instant when the girl forgot what she had said, her soul
pressing to the windows of her eyes. Was it he who had come, or----
It was he. Before she had time to finish the thought, he walked in,
confident and smiling as when she had left him a few minutes--or a few
years--ago; and in the wave of relief which overwhelmed her, Annesley
forgot Ruthven Smith's question and her answer. She remembered again,
only with the shock of hearing him address the newcomer by the name she
had given.
"I hear from Miss Grayle that we are namesakes," Mr. Ruthven Smith said,
as "Nelson Smith" sprang in and took the girl's bag from her ice-cold
hand.
"I--he asked me ... I told him," Annesley stammered, her eyes appealing,
seeking to explain, and begging pardon.
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