Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. We were talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar. “You have killed me. ” He paused for a time. The terror faded from her eyes.
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