Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. The next moment he was by her side. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. "He will kill me," cried Thames. "Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. "I'll see him fettered myself. I just want him, and no one else will do. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head.
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