Above the housetops it was different. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. His number was unlisted and unpublished. His fingers closed upon her hand. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. ‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort.
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