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She passed inside and upstairs without a word. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. The door leaned inward. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. None this end. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style. "I'll soon settle this business. " The clock tinkled ten.

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