“Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. ” “I suppose,” Anna said, “that those are reasonable deductions. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. ” “Go ahead. What a pig she was. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. “Impossible to say,” he answered. “You are an impostor.
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