“I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. I will do all this not because I love you, but—because you are Anna’s sister. I am your very dutiful niece, aunt, and your most devoted sister, Annabel. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. Altogether different. “Cheveney!” she repeated. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself.
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