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“Her ladyship dined at home,” the man answered. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. ” Annabel looked intently into her glass. “My dear Anna,” he answered. ‘But you have told them that I have been disguised, no? That I have broken into Remenham House, and—’ ‘No, no, child, don’t be alarmed,’ said her great-aunt, her tone soothing. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness.
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