The carpenter threw himself flat upon the starling to avoid the fury of the wind. Gracious, there’s the gong. Doctor says depositions to-night. "What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. "How goes it?" he began, heartily. "Here he is, waterman," exclaimed the benevolent carpenter. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. “I say!” he cried. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable.
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