When it came time to eat once again, she hid out on the beach, a remote fastness beyond the city walls, a swampy morass that everyone avoided. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. “Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. “If it is a choice between the two,” she answered, “I must be Annabel Pellissier.
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