He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. Some of them are now buried at the bottom of the Thames. But what else he saw fit to teach her I do not care to stipulate. ” Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning.
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