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End of Project Gutenberg's Anna the Adventuress, by E. This girl whom he had met by chance and befriended had done both. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. Cast off this weakness. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. " Just then, the infant began to sob piteously. ‘Never fear, my love. 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.
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