It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. One gets drawn into things. Stanley was throughout enigmatical, with an anxious eye on her husband and Alice. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Rhea commanded her. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. I have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books.
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