. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. You are the woman I love, Anna. You give her a daub here and there where the rust shows. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No.
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