"You need not rub it in like that, Anna. I was perfectly willing to do

the square thing by you always, but you flared up, went away, and

Heaven only knew what became of you. It's bad enough to have things

made unpleasant for me in Boston on your account without having you

queering my plans here."

"Boston--I never told anyone in Boston."

"No, but that row got into the papers about Langdon and the Tremonts

cut me."

"Hush," said Anna, as a spasm of pain crossed her face: "I never wish

you to refer to my past life again."

"Indeed, Anna, I am only too anxious to do the right thing by you, even

now. If you will go away, I will give you what you want, if you don't

intend to interfere between Kate and me."

"Are you sure that Kate is in earnest? You know that the Squire

intends her to marry Dave."

"I shall have no difficulty in preventing that if you don't interfere."

She did not answer. She was again considering the same old question

that she had thrashed out a thousand times--should she tell Kate? How

would she take it? Would the tragedy of her life be regarded as a

little wild-oat sowing on the part of Sanderson and her own eternal

disgrace?

The man was in no humor for her silence. He grasped her roughly by the

arm, and his voice was raised loud in angry protest. "Tell me--do you,

or do you not intend to interfere?"

In the excitement of the moment neither heard the outer door open, and

neither heard David enter. He stood in his quiet way, looking from one

to the other. Sanderson's angry question died away in some foolish

commonplace, but David had heard and Anna and Sanderson knew it.




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