" Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. I have healed and I am still your wife!\" She looked at him desperately, his eyes illuminated by firelight. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Saw the villain through the keyhole.
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