But before she could complete her sentence Anna's arms were round her.
"Of course not. Of course not," the girl murmured tenderly. "Rosemary darling, of course not!"
"I never spoke about your affairs to a single soul, Anna," Rosemary said gravely. "I give you my solemn word of honour that I never even mentioned the thing to my husband until after your arrest, when, of course, all the facts became public property."
"I know, Rosemary, I know," Anna repeated. "I would trust you with every secret. I would trust you with my life—with Philip's life."
"And you did not trust anyone else?" Rosemary asked.
"I never breathed a word about it to a living soul, except to you and Peter Blakeney."
"Peter knew?"
"Yes, Peter knew."
"You wrote to him?" Rosemary insisted. "Ah, then I understand. Your letters were held up by the censor, and——"
"No, I never wrote to Peter what Philip and I were doing; but you know he arrived in Cluj the day before I was arrested. He came to arrange some cricket match or other between Roumanians and Hungarians. I don't know anything about cricket, but, of course, Peter was full of it. He came to see me at my lodgings, quite unexpectedly. I was so surprised to see him, and so happy, as I am very, very fond of Peter. We talked till late into the evening, and somehow I had to tell him everything. But except for that one talk with Peter, and the one I had with you, I never breathed a word about what Philip and I were doing, not to a living soul!"