Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. “In any case, I decline to see you alone. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. Much to her annoyance, therefore, Winifred was left alone with the woollendraper, who following up a maxim of his own, "that nothing was gained by too much bashfulness," determined to profit by the opportunity. . “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. There was more to be told, and this was as good a time as any. It hardly served his interests. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. The bridge was open.
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