” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. He died in the war. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. Retribution has a queer way of acting sometimes. Don't feel fussed upon my account. Anna came back into the sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. Fast asleep, he is.
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