A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. Ennison with my sister last night. ” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. This will be safer than cutting his throat on shore. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother’s letter. Lost me place, that’s all. Sydney Courtlaw—Mr.
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