And, yet, I don't know. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. Deny me, if you please. Did he act to you that day as if he knew what he was doing?" "Not all of the time. "I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. ” “Yes. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. ” Anna shook her head. Mr. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. Well, I told aunt.
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