And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. “Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. ” Anna was bewildered. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. “Monsieur would dine! It was very good! And Madame, of course?” with a low bow. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall.
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