A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. “My name is certainly Pellissier,” she said, “but I am very sorry—I do not recognize you in the least. Or shall I ask Colonel Anson for a few hints?” “For Heaven’s sake no,” she declared. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful.
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