’ She sniffed and swallowed. I hate what I am. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. If individuality means anything it means breaking bounds— adventure. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. Ramage controlled his expression and thought very quickly. She was wan and white. It was never intended that I should marry Monsieur Valade, but after the tragedy—’ her eyes darkening in genuine distress ‘—and that he was the only survivor, he came to me in the convent and married me, and brought me to England.
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