She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate. ’ She paused, struggling for the word. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. Let her have her own way in all things, for she will always be just. Ennison?” “He spoke to me, thinking that I was you,” Anna answered. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. She lied.
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