He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Later he dispatched a cable announcing the escape and the sending of the letter. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. “Well, no,” she answered.
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