Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. Drawing the pay of life and then not living. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. Just as soon as I deal with this little tramp, I’m going to divorce you and take every penny that you’ve ever made, including your pension and your measly inheritance from 125 your dishrag of a father!” Something in the little man’s mind snapped. He held in his hands many threads. “May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us.
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