” “Excellent,” Sir John declared. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, “because we want you to do us a favour. Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women. She is, in her way, a dear. I won’t try. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently.
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