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She would never know freedom in love, but would remain forever a

guilty wife, with the menace of detection hanging over her at

every instant; deceiving her husband for the sake of a shameful

connection with a man living apart and away from her, whose life

she could never share. She knew that this was how it would be,

and at the same time it was so awful that she could not even

conceive what it would end in. And she cried without restraint,

as children cry when they are punished.

The sound of the footman's steps forced her to rouse herself,

and, hiding her face from him, she pretended to be writing.

"The courier asks if there's an answer," the footman announced.

"An answer? Yes," said Anna. "Let him wait. I'll ring."