"Very well," Anna said. "I will believe you. Remember that he's not at
all a bad sort, and to speak frankly, he's your salvation. Try and let
him never regret it. There's plenty to be got out of life in a decent
sort of way. Be a good wife to him. You can if you will."
"I promise," Annabel declared. "He is very kind, Anna, really, and not
half such a prig as he seems."
Anna moved towards the door, but her sister detained her.
"Won't you tell me why you have come to England?" she said. "It was
such a surprise to see you. I thought that you loved Paris and your
work so much."
A momentary bitterness crept into Anna's tone.
"I have made no progress with my work," she said slowly, "and the
money was gone. I had to ask Mr. Courtlaw for his true verdict, and he
gave it me. I have given up painting."
"Anna!"
"It is true, dear. After all there are other things. All that I regret
are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. Only of
course I must begin something else at once. That is why I came to
London."
"But what are you going to do--where are you going to live?" Annabel
asked. "Have you any money?"
"Lots," Anna answered laconically. "Never mind me. I always fall on my
feet, you know."
"You will let us hear from you--let us know where you are, very soon?"
Annabel called out from the step.
Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement.
"Some day," she answered. "Run in now. There's a hansom coming round
the corner."
* * * * * Anna sat back in her cab, but found it remain stationary.
"Gracious!" she exclaimed to herself. "I don't know where to go to."
The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window,
reminded her that he was in a similar predicament.
"Drive towards St. Pancras," she directed, promptly. "I will tell you
when to stop."
The cab rumbled off. Anna leaned forward, watching the people in the
streets. It was then for the first time she remembered that she had
said nothing to her sister of the man in the hospital.