” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. You denied it, remembering that I had called myself Anna. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. 23 She had always considered herself a simple wool maker’s daughter, but she began to realize that by marrying Gianfrancesco she had unwittingly gained entrance to a separate world. But before the Grieg concerto was done, she knew that she was free.
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