” “Then why,” Anna asked quietly, “do you run away? It is not like you. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. 1. She was my first love.
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