Anna took up the pen, and signed, after a moment’s hesitation, A. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Her face expressed nothing. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. "I shall behold the shameless hussy, face to face; and, if I find her as good-looking as she's represented, I don't know what I'll do in the end; but I'll begin by scratching her eyes out.
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