Chapter XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE After that first horrible moment it was perhaps Anna who was the more selfpossessed. ‘Me, I am tout à fait stupide. ” “Such independence,” he answered quickly, “is a vice. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. .
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