All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. Arrived in England, she had sought out Gosse, to keep an eye on his activities and thus keep one step ahead of him, meanwhile hoping that she might find herself another means of proof at Remenham House.
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