” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. “Dear husband,” she murmured. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious. Everybody looked askance at everybody else. ” “You need help and sympathy more, Anna,” he pleaded, “and I have the right, yes I have the right to offer you both. ‘Again you seek to interfere in my affairs?’ ‘I did warn you I had every intention of doing so,’ said Gerald. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance.
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