"Come away!" he cried, with the roar of a demon. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. “My name,” Anna replied calmly, “is certainly Pellissier, but I repeat that I do not know you. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. She was my first love.
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