“You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. This also struck her as odd. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. Miss Stanley threw aside a black cloak to reveal a discreet and dignified arrangement of brown silk, and then embraced Ann Veronica with warmth. Her companion was a person of no inferior condition. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. The doctor would naturally offer a hundred objections; he might seriously interfere; so he must be forestalled. “Go on!” “People talked to you in Paris about us,” she continued, “about Anna the virtuous and Annabel the rake.
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