Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. What a pity! But why? There was no way over this puzzle, nor under it, nor around it: that men should drink, knowing the inevitable payment. They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. E. "You begin to have doubts, eh? A handful of money between you, and nothing else.
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