Chapter VII MISS PELLISSIER’S SUSPICIONS “Anna!” Anna kissed her sister and nodded to her aunt. “I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. She made me over. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. “But then they would find that check endorsed in his bureau. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. . ” “When?” “At tea. “I must go. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them.
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