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Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. “I don’t care what any one thinks,” said Ann Veronica. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. It was she—— Anna’s nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly clutching at the table for support.
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