Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. ” Anna was thoughtful. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. And in its way it was very well. "You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr.
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