” Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. Lucia dismissed the rumors, as it was not likely an archbishop would renege on his duties to become her personal doctor. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act.
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