“Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. I love you still, Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman. Wood, sharply. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. Day after day for a measured hour in the lecture-theatre, with elaborate power and patience, Russell pieced together difficulty and suggestion, instance and counter-instance, in the elaborate construction of the family tree of life. Afterwards, it may be different. Had she expected to wed Valade herself? Had the fellow broken a vow of betrothal, or abandoned her? He must find out more. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright.
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