"Rachel," said Mr. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. " "You needn't trouble yourself," replied Thames. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. It was so hopeless to put it to them.
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