This Is Not The End

"I said some afternoon," she remarked, throwing open her warm coat,
and taking off her gloves, "but I certainly did not mean to-day."

"I met you accidentally," he reminded her. "Our ways happened to lie
together."

"And our destinations also, it seems," she added, smiling.

"You asked me in to tea," he protested.

"In self-defence I had to," she answered. "It is a delightful day for
walking, but a great deal too cold to be standing on the pavement."

"Of course," he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat,
"I could go away even now. Your reputation for hospitality would
remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned."

"Then you had better ring the bell," she declared, laughing. "The walk
has given me an appetite, and I do not feel like waiting till five
o'clock. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. It is quite
light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun.
Would you mind drawing them back?"

Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains. They were
suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. A
little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. Anna sprang to her
feet with a startled cry.

"You!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? How dare you come to
my rooms!"

The man stepped into the middle of the room. The last few months had
not dealt kindly with Mr. Montague Hill. He was still flashily
dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots,
but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse. His
cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. He had the appearance of a
man who has known no rest for many nights. His voice when he spoke was
almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness.