Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. She fidgeted and looked away. It's a bad omen to be thrown near that door. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. It is her duty to tell me, and I would not have her think that I had been trying to work upon your sympathies to learn her secrets. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me.
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