” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. Posts were offered to all who chose to accept them. Just an idea of mine. ” “It would be very kind of you,” she declared. Professing to stand between the robber and the robbed, he himself plundered both. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. —I'll soon find you out. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful.
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