“Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. ‘It needs not that you tell me. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Sebastian was always a man who felt the need to surround himself with the trappings of the finer life. “I like your brother better than any other man I know,” Anna said at last. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. The only part of his otherwise-interesting countenance, to which one could decidedly object, was the mouth; a feature that, more than any other, is conceived to betray the animal propensities of the possessor. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful.
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