CHAPTER XII. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping). She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. Let me keep him. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. Always remember that. She hoped fervently that Martin had not divulged his crush to Brown. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps.
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