Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. Her pulses began to race. “Not at all. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided.
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