Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Spurling and Marvel rose too. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. But her words were not addressed to Melusine. “Can Lucy and I go out for a walk?” Michelle interrupted the violin conversation petulantly. 123 It didn’t take long. He may die. Tell him the truth, Annabel. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets.
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