I shuddered at the thought. There was something horrible in the blind unreasoning distrust of the future which the mere passage of it through my mind seemed to imply. It was a welcome interruption to be roused by feeling Anne Catherick's hand laid on my shoulder. The touch was as stealthy and as sudden as that other touch which had petrified me from head to foot on the night when we first met. "You are looking at me, and you are thinking of something," she said, with her strange breathless rapidity of utterance. "What is it?" "Nothing extraordinary," I answered. "I was only wondering how you came here." "I came with a friend who is very good to me. I have only been here two days." "And you found your way to this place yesterday?" "How do you know that?" "I only guessed it." She turn