There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. ‘Dear me. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again. She looked stealthily at Anna. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. ” He gave the note to the parlormaid the next morning in an inadvertent, casual manner just as he was leaving the house to catch his London train. It was too good to be true. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked.
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