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CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT Part 1 Spring had held back that year until the dawn of May, and then spring and summer came with a rush together. Here we go, thought Gerald. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. "The key," replied the widow. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly.
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