His voice now had lost its ironies. “How did you find me?” He asked. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. “I would like to go home,” she cried, “to please her. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenter's wife, still less what is she now.
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