An excited little chuckle came from her, but she pretended to be absorbed.

“Do you hear, Milady?”

She turned with a fleeting, exulting laugh.

He rushed on her, and swept her up.

“Who was it that didn't come!” he said, rolling her between his strong hands, tickling her. And she laughed heartily, heartily. She loved him that he compelled her with his strength and decision. He was all-powerful, the tower of strength which rose out of her sight.

When the children were in bed, sometimes Anna and he sat and talked, desultorily, both of them idle. He read very little. Anything he was drawn to read became a burning reality to him, another scene outside his window.