For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. ” “Not worth the trouble. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. “Who killed her husband?” “Go and nurse him, missus!” “Murderess!” Anna looked from left to right. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk.
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