She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. Gerald crossed back to the window. " "Have you told her?" "Told her? Told her what?" Spurlock sat straight in his chair. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. Undraw the curtain, love," she added to Thames, "that I may look at you. The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No.
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