“You are talking like a boy. ’ The girl shook her head violently, setting the feathers on her hat bobbing. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. “I like your brother better than any other man I know,” Anna said at last. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours.
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