It took Annette a little time to pick up the threads of all the family jokes and allusions, and to disentangle the personalities of the various outlying characters who were used for purposes of fun or bickering, or, occasionally, as a weapon to enforce silence. Not all of these personages came to the house, and some of them seemed only to have a shadowy existence in the family consciousness. There were two or three mysterious and almost mythical young men associated with Minna. Mary's personality seemed to be filled out with a vague widower of mature years, who made mincing machines and was said to propose to her once a fortnight, Gertrude was altogether submerged in Bennett Lawrie, while, whenever Frederic became too obstreperous or offensive it was enough to breathe the name "Annie" to reduce him to a laconic moroseness. This Annie was the more real of all these extra-familiar characters, and Annette was very curious about her. She kept cropping up at the most out of the way moments, as every member of the family found it necessary at one time or another to remind Frederic of her existence. She was never given any surname, nor, apparently, was it known where she lived or how, or what she was to Frederic, or Frederic to her. Annette associated her absurdly with Sister Anne in _Bluebeard_, and from that again jumped to the cloud which was no bigger than a man's hand. For no reason at all she regarded Annie as a figure of disaster and was vaguely sorry for her and pitied her. Her pity became concrete one day when an accident brought her nearer to Annie and gave her the whole story. The lining of Frederic's office coat had worn to tatters. Going over his wardrobe Annette discovered this and took the coat into Serge's room, which she used when Serge was away at the Art School, and began to mend it. When she had repaired the lining she turned out the pockets, and among other papers--a theatre programme, two pawn-tickets, and a race-card--came on a grubby blotted letter written on cheap notepaper in a large wavering scrawl. Rather idly at first, and with no qualms or scruples--(all families read all letters that come into their hands)--she read it. There was neither address nor date. It was very short. "DEAR FRED.--You must answer my letter, you must, you must. What am I to do? I can't prevent mother finding out soon, and she can't bear any more, she has had so much to bear. I can't tell her it's you, but it's the thinking I can't stand when you don't write to me. If you could only get me away somewhere, like you said you would. I'm just the same, but I can't write like I used to. It's the work in the house that's so awful, with the lodgers being beastly. Dear Fred, do please write to your ANNIE."