Her sister’s words were true. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. “An annuity—a sum of money paid to you yearly or quarterly through my solicitors, and which you can consider as a gift from your sister. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. Hartford, Connecticut; she had registered that address; but there was something so mystifyingly Oriental about her that the address only thickened the haze behind which she moved. Given the proper incentive, who could say that he might not likewise go nobly to some fine end? She thrilled. Jeez! It was about time. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. Mr. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered.
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