“Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. Or appeared to do so. It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids.
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