A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. " At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. “Those were good. “Always planning for death. The whole force of the constables, jailers and others was required to keep the crowd out of the Hall. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity.
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