He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. He entered it; crossed the room, in which there was only a small truckle-bed, over which he stumbled; opened another door and gained the stair-head. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. She was quite the rage, in a small way, you know. ‘Courage,’ urged her spouse.
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