He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. You sent back my Christmas checks. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him.
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