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Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. ” “I hope that you may,” Anna answered enigmatically. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. You did not learn that in a convent. .
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