“Mr. “He naturally does not wish for connexions which are—I do not wish to hurt you feelings, Anna, but I must say it—not altogether desirable. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ” She looked at him with fluttering eyelids—sweetly grateful. “What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. “Have you got to keep her now?” “To the best of my ability,” said Mr. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman.
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