’ ‘What?’ squeaked Kimble. Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. After five or six years it would not be difficult to hide in Italy or in France. He had never wanted daughters. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. It wound around a small manufactured lake. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights.
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