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Every one looked at Anna. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. That’s how things are; that’s the order of the world. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room.
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