She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. Michelle answered the door. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. ” “I still——” Anna stopped short.
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