The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. “All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. She was enchanted by the beauty of the other girls, who were magically transformed into fairies and elves by makeup into seemingly unfamiliar yet glamorous new people. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna’s eyes as much as possible.
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