In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. “When can we be alone together?” She asked him, never loosening her grip. Suddenly she understood. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. ‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French.
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