"Then he was refused twice in one day," said Heathcote. "Mrs. Bannert refused him at six."
"How do you know?"
"She told me."
"Traitorous creature!"
"Oh no; she is an especial—I may say confidential—friend of mine."
"Then what am I?"
"Not a friend at all, I hope," said the man beside her. "Something more." He was pulling a spray of vine to pieces, and did not look up; but Helen was satisfied, and smiled to herself brightly. She now went back to Anne. "Did you know poor Anne was gone too, Ward?"
"Gone!" said Heathcote, starting. Then he controlled himself. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean that Miss Vanhorn cruelly sent her away this afternoon without warning, and with only a little money; Bessmer was not even allowed to inquire what she intended to do, or where she was going. I have been haunted ever since I heard it by visions of the poor child arriving in New York all alone, and perhaps losing her way: she only knew that one up-town locality near Moreau's."
"Do you mean to say that no one knows where she has gone?"