“How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. At this place of refuge, situated in the heart of Wapping, near the river-side, he arrived in less than an hour, in a complete state of exhaustion. The thought of the picture but added to her despondency. Ten thousand islands, and each one good for a night's rest. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue.
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