"I've a good mind not to speak to you again, Sir!" cried Winifred, with difficulty repressing a tear of vexation; "you've acted unfairly. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. McClintock was in a gay mood at dinner that night; but he did not see fit to give these children the true reason. 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. ‘Neither do I,’ he responded, frowning, ‘but for Gerald’s sake, I’ll do anything I can. Probably hadn't.
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