I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. "Shall I fetch it for you, Sir?" "By all means. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. But on this matter my mind is quite made up. ‘You dare to come to me? What do you wish of me? Why have you come? I do not want you!’ She swept round on Gerald abruptly and he braced for the onslaught. " "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. 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. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy.
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