’ He shifted unguardedly, and hissed a breath, wincing. ” “On the contrary,” Anna whispered quietly, “we met in a small boarding-house where I was stopping. ‘How she pouted, and tried to make out that she had been imposed upon. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. She leaned back in her chair.
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