‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. ‘I have an excellent excuse to remain comfortably ensconced in my parlour here, able to indulge in my favourite pastime. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be agreeable to him. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press.
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