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Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. “She contrives somehow to strike the personal note in an amazing manner. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. You cannot depart hence. I did so. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. His spirits revived, and encouraging himself with the idea that the present impediment, though the greatest, was the last, he set himself seriously to consider how it might best be overcome. " "Hadn't you better hold a moment's parley with the gentlemen before proceeding to extremities?" suggested Jonathan. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time.
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