The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. It was time to get up. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. Queer old gentleman! The art of ignoring is one of the accomplishments of every well-bred girl, so carefully instilled that at last she can even ignore her own thoughts and her own knowledge. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. I can pull the strings of this stiff-necked puppet as I please. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. I made the pies. It was ended. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. I am a man—of a sort of experience.
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