“You won’t give me away, Anna. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. ‘To go to these Charvill, it was not in my plot. ’ Lucy giggled. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. “Yes I did. “If only Sir John were not Sir John I would ask you to come and have some supper. Then he threw the letter at me.
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