The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. He will not come. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. In nearly every speech she heard was the same implication of great and necessary changes in the world—changes to be won by effort and sacrifice indeed, but surely to be won. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Ramage tethered the horse to the farther gate-post, and Caesar blew heavily and began to investigate the hedge. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. ’ Gerald eyed her.
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