CHAPTER XVI. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. Anna saw it, and for the first time found herself trembling. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper.
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