Although she had refused to answer his impertinent questions. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. “My dear Anna,” he answered. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. When they reached the door, he kissed her 246 again.
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