Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. " "And shall find none," replied the Amazon. " "Graves. I tell you that I love you, Anna, and I believe that you love me. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. ‘But the fact remains that you should not have enjoyed it, you were quite right to threaten to kill me, and I— God help me!—should not have kissed you at all.
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