It was a haunted place. “For one thing I am going to marry David Courtlaw. This she would not endure. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. Kneebone, Van Galgebrok, and Baptist Kettleby—all of whom greeted him cordially. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights.
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