Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. However, not a moment is to be lost. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood.
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