” “It is very nice of you to think of it,” Anna said briskly. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. It appeared from what he said that he had been captured when asleep,—that his liquor had been drugged,—otherwise, he would never have allowed himself to be taken alive. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Her mother missed writing for a week, and then she wrote in an unusual key.
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