Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. Anna leaned over so that he needed only to whisper. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. ” “You are jealous,” she declared contemptuously. He felt no pain from this cowardly kick. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. She cursed herself for a fool. .
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