Supper was over. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress. What can she have done to deserve such a fate? Oh!” They both turned round at Anna’s exclamation. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. The late afternoon, en effet.
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