Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. ‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. ” The girl sat up and looked at him with a curious twist at the corners of her mouth —humorous or pathetic, he could not tell which. He drew her closer. “I came directly I was disengaged,” Anna answered. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. ‘You imbecile. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.
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