’ The lady shook her head, contriving at the same moment to utter a breathy little laugh. Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. ” Then she fell to thinking about her aunt. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. He knew not what to say, or what to do; and his confusion was increased by the threatening gestures and furious looks of the ruffians in his immediate vicinity. " "Your own was equally so," said Jackson ironically.
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