She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. ” 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. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. To think of him as loving her would make all that different.
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