do want to know something about the girl she lives with, the other Anna, you know — Miss Angell, in fact."
"I suppose you know what you're playing at," said Tom, good-naturedly; "but I'm bothered if I do. Miss Angell doesn't live with any one as far as I know. She never introduced me to a model in her life; in fact, I only know her very slightly. Some aunt of hers commissioned me to paint her portrait; that was how she came to sit for me. Who is the model you were talking about? You must have got mixed somehow, old chap."
"Mixed?" said Askett, mechanically, standing in a vague manner on the edge of the kerbstone. "Mixed, yes, that's it, of course; certainly mixed. I suppose — in fact, I believe — well, it's that joke, you know." And to the mystification of his companion, who stood staring after him, he beckoned with an exaggerated composure to a hansom, gave the driver an address in Belgravia, and drove away without a word of farewell.
The other Anna answered her own bell, that evening, because her maid was out for a holiday. And she found Askett standing on the door mat outside.
"Oh!" was all she could find to say, though it was extremely expressive in the particular way she said it.
"It's all right," said Askett, in the most courteous and self-possessed manner possible. "I've only come to ask the other Anna to marry me, instead of the chap who doesn't know how to appreciate her. Do you think she will?"
There was the dawn of a laugh in her eyes as she threw the door wider.
"I believe," she replied, "that she still has a lurking fondness for the other chap. But if you'll come in I'll tell you that little joke of mine, and then"
"No need," observed Askett, "I think I know it."
