Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. Anna saw it, and for the first time found herself trembling. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. If I were a clean, free man—We’ll have to talk of all these things. A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her. Alas! that the punishment of his offences should fall on her head. Gay. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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