The delay was only momentary. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. As O'Higgins signed the hotel register, his keen glance took in the latest signatures. ” “Climbing?” “Yes. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. She hadn't meant to ask anything for herself. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. He knew me, Nigel. Perhaps she was.
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