She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. ’ ‘Sport!’ grumbled her betrothed, but he accompanied them across the ballroom all the same. ‘Come, cry a truce. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded.
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