Wood rest till he brought the villains to justice. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. But there was something in his face at once stupid and invincible that told her he would go on forcing himself upon her, that he would esteem speech with her a great point gained. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said.
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