‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. I may say she does not sound in the least like Mary,’ said Mrs Sindlesham bluntly. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. In some instances she tantalizes the victim for years and mocks him in the end. ‘C’est ridicule. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. End of Project Gutenberg's Anna the Adventuress, by E.
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