touch of mand。
An excited little chuckle came from her； but she pretended to
be absorbed。
〃Do you hear； Milady？〃
She turned with a fleeting； exulting laugh。 He rushed on her；
and swept her up。
〃Who was it that didn't e！〃 he said； rolling her between
his strong hands； tickling her。 And she laughed heartily；
heartily。 She loved him that he pelled her with his strength
and decision。 He was all…powerful； the tower of strength which
rose out of her sight。
When the children were in bed； sometimes Anna and he sat and
talked； desultorily； both of them idle。 He read very little。
Anything he was drawn to read became a burning reality to him；
another scene outside his window。 Whereas Anna skimmed through a
book to see what happened； then she had enough。
Therefore they would often sit together； talking desultorily。
What was really between them they could not utter。 Their words
were only accidents in the mutual silence。 When they talked；
they gossiped。 She did not care for sewing。
She had a beautiful way of sitting musing； gratefully； as if
her heart were lit up。 Sometimes she would turn to him；
laughing； to tell him some little thing that had happened during
the day。 Then he would laugh； they would talk awhile； before the
vital； physical silence was between them again。
She was thin but full of colour and life。 She was perfectly
happy to do just nothing； only to sit with a curious； languid
dignity； so careless as to be almost regal； so utterly
indifferent； so confident。 The bond between them was
undefinable； but very strong。 It kept everyone else at a
distance。
His fac