Then he remembered that she was Anna’s sister. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air. Above her head was an aura of white fire. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm.
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