She could not say a word, much less move. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. “You don’t waste any time. “I’m really very sorry. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. We men are like children. “John,” she said, “I can spare you that question. "All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a gesture which included the yacht. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother.
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