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When she looked around she said: "Who 's this kind man come in to help, Jamie?" "He's a farmer," Jamie said, "an' he's brot ye a pint ov nice fresh milk!" The man had filled a cup with milk and put it to Anna's lips. She refused. "He's dying," she said, pointing to the boy, who lay limp on the lap of a neighbor. The child was drowsy and listless. They gave him the cup of milk.
He reassured her instantly; declaring that he would not of course desert her, that he would provide a home for her somewhere. Meanwhile she was to stay where she was as long as her mistress would allow her. But a misfortune supervened in this direction. Whether an inkling of Anna's circumstances reached the knowledge of Mrs.
"Sure, but everybody knows you've got a clientele that nobody else could get. Are you talking?" "I guess not just yet." "Want to rent? I just had a nibble for small space; you could get fifty a month for that attic you're using for a nursery." "I hardly think so, Bob. That's a pet scheme of Anna's, and besides, we need it. It's good advertising." His friend's eyes were round and childlike.
On taking leave, Anna's friends would exchange significant glances, and Anna would have been either too stupid or else too wise not to notice the sting of those sly looks. As to Peter, he treated Anna fairly well; and when they happened to quarrel, it was mostly her own fault.
On examining the hole where the water was, we discovered a small native well, with a very little water, too little to be of any service to me. To-morrow morning I must push on through the scrub to Anna's Reservoir. My horses are still very weak, and I do not think they will be able to do it in a day. Wind variable. Wednesday, 18th July, Centre.
Opposite the page on which lay the little letter, Monsieur Wachner had amused himself by trying to imitate Anna's angular handwriting. Sylvia tore out one of the blank pages, and then she put the note-book and its enclosure back on the table.
Without any suspicion of the truth, Mrs. Livingstone spoke of Anna's absence, saying she presumed the poor girl was tired and sleepy, and this was admitted as an excuse for her tardiness.
And the schoolboys, Anna's brothers, Petya and Andrusha, pulled at his coat from behind, whispering in confusion: "Father, hush! . . . Father, that's enough. . . ." When the train started, Anna saw her father run a little way after the train, staggering and spilling his wine, and what a kind, guilty, pitiful face he had: "Hurra ah!" he shouted. The happy pair were left alone.
The next morning, Anna and her father went to see the artist. He was not in attendance, but one to whom they were well known brought forward the picture, at Anna's request, and which she had before seen. While they were looking at it, the artist came in.
"Would that a German married she had an honest, heart-good German, not a man like that bad, worthless George!" To this surely unnecessary remark Mrs. Otway had made no answer. It was unluckily true that Anna's English son-in-law lacked every virtue dear to a German heart.
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