I came in by the vestry, and we will go out that way again. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t.
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