F. III. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. Not a breath was drawn. She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more. But God did not put you next door. “Do come and cheer me up.
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