Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. That old world that had shoved up that silly old hotel, and all the rest of it. . I’ve never found them hostile. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. Eight per cent. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time.
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