He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. “I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. She is a year or so older than I am, and she is, well, of a very serene and proud and dignified temperament. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. “Men’s waists are neither here nor there; A man scores always, everywhere. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper.
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