The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. He took up his hat and went. ‘Has this capitaine of yours not yet rid us of this Emile? What can he find to say to him?’ ‘Don’t be impatient,’ Gerald said, rising too and coming to draw her away from the door. . After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. Give him his medicine every half hour. No! That was impossible. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried.
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