She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman.
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