To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. I’m a hard young woman. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. The very blank, however, affected him more deeply than if it had been left. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. You must live for me. White is proud of her drawing-room evenings. To this day he and every one else thinks that he married Anna.
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