There were lines in her face that age had not put there. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. ” “On the contrary,” Anna whispered quietly, “we met in a small boarding-house where I was stopping. He had just arrived from Manchester, whence he had been summoned by that treacherous thief-taker. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him.
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