” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. . But now Ann Veronica knew what was the matter with her. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. I sat within a few feet of him. Innumerable little puzzles were instantly solved. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings.
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