” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. This whole affair is truly my fault. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. She opened the door to him herself. ‘She may well try to go back. This is not the conduct of a jeune demoiselle. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. It would not burden him with any obligation.
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