” “On the contrary,” Anna whispered quietly, “we met in a small boarding-house where I was stopping. You know—I worship you. “So is Mr. I never saw a man who wasn't. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. Wait, though. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. Captain Roding either did not know, or did not remember that she had it. “The white unaggressive woman who corrects and nurses and serves, and is worshipped and betrayed—the martyr-queen of men, the white mother.
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