She always dawdled, so it was easy. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. "From Lady Trafford's, where I took the box. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. ‘Ah. " He smiled at her as he smiled at death, cheerfully. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna’s eyes as much as possible. Her steps slowed. ” She thanked him with a look and rose to her feet. “Come to my rooms and have a drink.
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