You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. “There are no males at men to stare; A man scores always, everywhere. If you want me, you know where to find me. Sheppard. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room.
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