“I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. This purse," he added, chinking it in the air, "and this ring, were given me for him just now by the lady, who made a false step on leaving your house. . Come in! Come in, do. It isn't your duty.
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