But those days are over—quite over. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Through no fault of her own. She trembled; but she did not know why. “They are coming past our table. Don't you see Mr.
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