What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. An enormous poster almost covered one side of the wall—the poster. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. To-morrow they will know the truth. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy.
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