” “The good God!” Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. Ann Veronica liked their relationship all the more because it was an unusual one.
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