"My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. If she could have held it in, perhaps the Virgin Mary would have sent her a miracle as reward for her strength. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. And then you go—and half throttle me. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna the Adventuress, by E. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives.
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