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Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. ” “May I be prepared?” Anna asked. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. “You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. ’ ‘Some of them more pleasurable than others, I take it. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life.
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