Abruptly the sterner look vanished and she twinkled. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. "Rowland," she rejoined, "you strive in vain to terrify me into compliance with your wishes. She assumed with a kind of mesmeric force all the propositions that Ann Veronica wanted her to define. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father.
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