” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. “I’m sorry I told you that, Michelle. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. It also told you how to write on all occasions, how to take out a patent, how to doctor a horse, and who Achates was. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading.
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