"You are very stupid, Anna," she said. "Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of _ingenuèe_ and altered my whole style of dress. Upon my word, Anna," she declared, with a strange little laugh, "you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself." A sudden sense of the gravity of this thing came home to Anna. Her sister's words were true. They had changed identities absolutely. It was not for a week or a month. It was for ever. A cold shiver came over her. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay _insouciance_, had made her own friends, gone her own way. Anna never knew whither it had led her--sometimes she had fears. It was her past now, not Annabel's. "It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister," Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. "To tell you the truth, I am a little dull." "Where is your husband?" Anna asked. "He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere," Annabel answered. "I do not suppose he will be home till late. Tell me how are you amusing yourself?" Anna laughed. "I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living," she replied. "I hope," Annabel answered lazily, "that you have succeeded. By-the-bye, do you want any money? Sir John's ideas of pin money are not exactly princely, but I can manage what you want, I dare say." "Thank you," Anna answered coldly. "I am not in need of any. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John's." "That's rather a pity," Annabel said. "He wants to settle something on you, I believe. It is really amusing. He lives in constant dread of a reappearance of '_La Belle Alcide_,' and hearing it said that she is his wife's sister. Bit priggish, isn't it? And if he only knew it--so absurd. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna--typewriting, or painting, or lady's companion?" "I think," Anna said, "that the less you know about me the better. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?" she asked, looking round. Annabel shook her head.