” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. “Have you any money?” “Lots,” Anna answered laconically. ‘Still more would I be so if he had come himself to tell me this. As for loving you, I do. ” “Oh!” he said, in a colorless tone, and with his eyes on her face. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. You must let me do whatever I can for you.
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