” It was a long, meandering talk, stupid, shameful, and unavoidable. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. She started forward. Larry fell off the truck the Wednesday night before she planned on leaving. He was amused. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name.
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