Her pulses began to race. "Mr. I sent my check for ten thousand; and it has cost me six thousand to find you. Anna sat quite still for a moment, and then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. ‘They cannot be worse than mine in English, monsieur. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers.
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