Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. His little doll. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. ‘It is imbecile that you are. My thanks, by the by. But they were too late. “She’s all right. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. Both started. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. ” For a moment she was grave. Treat me as an elder brother, if you like.
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