On returning to the audience-chamber, Jonathan found the inanimate body of Thames Darrell lying where he had left it; but, on examining it, he remarked that the pockets were turned inside out, and had evidently been rifled. Presently he resumed: “I believe I must be in love. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence.
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