It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. Something drew you. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. The blood will rest on your head. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. . "Why? Because I love her! Because I loved her at the start, but was too big a fool to know it!" His own astonishment was quite equal to McClintock's.
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