Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. He appeared suddenly from the infinite in the neighborhood of the Burlington Arcade, crossing the pavement toward her and with his eyes upon her. “Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. She stepped into his arms. ‘That will be a matter for her future husband to decide. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though.
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