It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. If we were set upon I could not defend you. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done.
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