stairs with Howard Stanton's card in her hand. Miserere accompanied her to the reception-room door, then dashed away to play with the other studio cats, Victoria Regina, and Albert Edward, Prince of Wales.
Anne tore up the card, then wondered helplessly what to do with the pieces. It was strange that Howard should come just now. But then, it was strange that he had not come before. She must be rather formal at first. Memories drifted to her of scenes where she had met him in imagination. In imagination she had been quite self-possessed. Now she was undeniably ill at ease. This was only because of her haunting anxiety lest she had spoiled this man's life.
As she entered, the young man rose and held out his hand. He, apparently, was not embarrassed.
"I am presuming upon our old acquaintance," he said. "Chance has brought me to the city"
"Why, Howard!" gasped Anne. She had not meant to be so formal as that.
