“Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. “Monsieur would dine! It was very good! And Madame, of course?” with a low bow. “Married already,” he said, with his mouth full. Not up here, I think. Anna picked up an ancient magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. Anna, why will you persist in this single-handed combat with life?” “Don’t!” she cried.
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