We’re going in. . “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally. ’ Her eyes narrowed. Earles that I was ‘Alcide,’” Anna remarked quietly. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. Anyhow, he did not sentimentalize her. A man is so apt to—to take women a little too lightly.
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