Brendon's Luck

Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. She was alone, and the
mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. She
was a little paler than when she had come to London, a little paler
and a little thinner. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now
with unshed tears. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her
life. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although
she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits.
Nevertheless, she was still fighting.

"There is one thing I must concentrate on at the moment," she told
herself, "and that is how to pay my next week's bill to Mrs. White. It
ought not to be much. I have gone without dinner for three nights,
and--come in."

Sydney Courtlaw followed his timid knock. Anna raised her eyebrows at
the sight of him. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and
white tie.

"Is this a concession to Mrs. White?" she asked, laughing. "How
gratified she must have been! If only I had known I would have made an
effort to get home in time for dinner."

"Not exactly," he answered nervously. "Please forgive me coming up,
Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three
nights, and--Brendon and I--we were afraid that you might be unwell."

"Never better in my life," Anna declared briskly. "I had lunch very
late to-day, and I did not get home in time for dinner."