“It is a pity you did not live in old days. A border raid or a swoop of pirates might have given you the wooing you desire.”
Anne agreed.
“No time for hesitation.”
Mrs Martyn remarked that Thorpe would be more to her own liking than an old Scotch stronghold. Anne got up.
“Ah, don’t weary me with talk of it!”
“I believe, after all, you are like Samson, and have not told me the truth at all. What you really want is a struggle. You conquer too easily.”
Anne stood considering.
“That is only the first act of the drama,” she said at last. “I hold to what I have said. No more questions. Good-night.”
As her maid was brushing her hair, she asked whether the Mr Wareham who had arrived that evening was not the same gentleman who had come to their rescue in that dreadful accident when they were so nearly killed? Anne laughed.
“Your memory is so creative, Watkins, that you add fresh horrors whenever you allude to that day. Yes, it was Mr Wareham with whom I walked to Oakwood.”