He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. But, urged by his wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from the back of the premises. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. The world isn’t ready for girls to start out on their own yet; that’s the plain fact of the case.
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