What’s your name?” He asked in return. Now when I tell you exactly the truth, you will also not believe me. Cathy sighed. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. He was suddenly calm. It was just as easy to pretend she was watching one when she was actually watching the other. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. She has no proof—yet. We came on here at once.
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