Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. Jack! Mon dieu, but he was unarmed. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore.
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