The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. It creaked slightly. On this elevation a table was now placed, around which sat the turnkeys and their guests, regaling themselves on the fragrant beverage provided by the prisoner. Then she moved towards the door. “No power on earth will persuade me we’re not two rather disreputable persons. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. My name is Annabel, not Anna.
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