‘Don’t tell me. . I love you still, Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. I have squeezed three kids into it afore now. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. Their minds are turned against him. It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. And she is very young, younger than her years.
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