“I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. The slow stars circled on to the moment of their meeting. ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. It was from Brendon. And I suppose it is too much to expect that any entirely English young lady would be prepared to tolerate me for the remainder of my life. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. We had better have it over. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob.
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