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It was ten o'clock as he washis liht of Anna, not definitely The dark finger pressing a

bruise controlled hiuiltily when he left the house She had

hastened preparing the tea, hoping he would coot all ready Then he didn't coone? Why

couldn't he come back now? Why was it such a battle between

them? She loved him--she did love him--why couldn't he

be kinder to her, nicer to her?

She waited in distress--then her hts She had considered indignantly, what

right he had to interfere with her sewing? She had indignantly

refuted his right to interfere with her at all She was not to

be interfered with Was she not herself, and he the

outsider

Yet a quiver of fear went through her If he should leave

her? She sat conjuring fears and sufferings, till she ith

very self-pity She did not knohat she would do if he left

her, or if he turned against her The thought of it chilled her,

er, the

outsider, the being anted to arrogate authority, she