She heard their feet and muffled voices. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. The manager twisted his moustache. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. ‘She’s still bleeding. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. I believed that our marriage was genuine. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. Fear nothing.
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