For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. “Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. “You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will have no secrets from him except—concerning those things which are past?” “Anna, I swear it!” her sister sobbed.
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