” “The good God!” Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. ” “Well?” Anna remarked calmly. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action.
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