Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. “I am under police surveillance,” she said. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. “Thanks, I’m not very fond of coffee,” Anna answered, “and I hate music. ” Chapter X THE TRAGEDY OF AN APPETITE Anna, notwithstanding her quiet clothes, a figure marvellously out of accord with her surroundings, sat before a small marble-topped table at a crowded A.
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