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“It was my sister Anna. It goes to my heart to disappoint you, but this thing must not be. We WERE thieves. She swallowed hard. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. Then he understood. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. "So much the better," rejoined Sir Rowland. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home.
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