” Anna drew out her purse at once. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted. “I should like to understand you,” he said. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman.
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