"You  must  wonder  many  things  about  me,"  she  said
softly.  "We  begin,  of  course,  on  the  night  when  you
heard  me  sing  in  that  little  alley.  Our  memories  go  no
farther  back."

"Mine,"  he  assured  her,  "is  already  a  blank."
"I  was  not  playing  any  part  then,"  she  went  on.  "I
can  assure  you  that  I  was  singing  for  my  living,  and  grate-
ful for  the  pennies  that  Chicot  picked  up.  You  must
have  seen  how  hungry  I  was  when  you  took  me  to  the
restaurant."

"Things,"  he  remarked,  "are  changed  now."
"They  are  changed,"  she  answered.  "I  was  in  search
of  some  one  all  the  time.  It  was  for  that  we  were  in
England,  Ambrose  and  Chicot  and  I.  I  had  almost
given  up  hope  when  I  found  —  not  the  person  I  expected
to  find,"  she  continued,  in  a  rather  lower  tone,  "but
some  one  else.  It  came  to  the  same  thing.  It  was  some
one  from  whom  I  had  a  right  to  demand  a  release  from
my  hateful  life."


PASSERS-BY  93

"You  mean  the  Marquis  of  Ellingham,  of  course,"
Hannaway  said  softly.
She  nodded.  "Yes,"  she  answered.  "You  saw  me
with  him  last  night."

"I  will  tell  you  something  else,"  he  continued.  "I  saw
you  at  Victoria.  I  saw  you  recognize  him.  I  saw  you
drawn  into  the  carriage  and  spirited  away."

She  looked  at  him  with  parted  lips,  a  little  pale  at  the
recollection  of  that  wonderful  moment.  "You  were
there?"  she  whispered.  "To  me  it  was  a  great  shock.
