The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said. She wished she had not stood up. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. Anna leaned forward, watching the people in the streets. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. Its parents have perished. 92 She did not notice the police car sitting near the Beck house until they were pulling into the driveway.
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