CHAPTER XII. “Perhaps your engagements are made for you. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. "Yes," answered the girl. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. In the sixth center row sat an unexpected guest, his Classical Greek features stark in the yellow half light. “I knew I should have died!” She went fast into a state of shock. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance.
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