With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that. “On or about the day you receive this letter, Anna, the six months will be up. If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to you. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
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