Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. She laughed a little bitterly. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails.
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