The Supper at Mr. . After several vain attempts to burst it open, he resolved, as a last alternative, to break through the wall in the part nearest to the lock. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. “Maybe someday I can look them up again, just to see how they are doing. I have discovered something of her background.
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