“It’s—private. ” He could feel a small bump where he knew a cavity of smooth flesh should reside. Horrible doubts assailed her. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked.
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