Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Jacques!’ She got no further, for Kimble came towards her, speaking fast and low. A young man was playing the banjo. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on. It may be well, therefore, before proceeding farther, to describe it more minutely. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon.
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