While this was taking place, another and more serious interruption occurred. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. “Hullo!” Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took Anna’s hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of content. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. But a man’s opposition always inclined her to the suffrage side; she had a curious feeling of loyalty in seeing the more aggressive women through. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time.
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