She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. "It's a fine idea, my child, but you mustn't do it. Why would militia be infesting the place? And he must by now be aware of my interest. A sarcastic smile seemed to play upon the chief-taker's lips; and abashed at his own irresolution, the lad went on. “Thank you. .
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