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Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. Detention was merry for the other detainees. ” He resumed, after a mouthful: “Here is a girl of sixteen or seventeen, seventeen and a half to be exact, running about, as one might say, in London. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. But men are so careless, there's no trusting anything to them! However, I must try to brazen it out. She continued to fan herself. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets.

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