‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. “Anna,” he cried eagerly. “—but this cannot be. Be silent, I say, if you value his safety. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible.
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