“You did your best to kill me,” he said. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. " "I care not why you did it," said Jack, sternly. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. " The manager began some computations. He could neither stifle nor deaden that. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners.
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