” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. A carpenter's daughter is no fit match for a peer of France. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. “If any one should know——you should! He was your friend. Celeste introduced him to me—oh, how Celeste hated me! She must have known. I shall be very sorry if I cannot have you for a friend. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. I watched you wait at the farmhouse! But I couldn’t compromise your safety! You must have realized that!” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper.
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