Anne would have passed out with her, but her guardian raised a hand. "I must ask you where you are going?" said he.
"Not with me," said Aurora, quickly. "No, no, you must not." And so, quickly hurrying down the stair, she herself turned into the open street.
"Anne," said Judge Henderson, "I am deeply distressed. This all is terrible—it's an awful thing. Did you hear that funeral march? God! an awful thing, right when I am in this terrible dilemma. I've just been on the long distance 'phone trying to get Slattery—I can't find either him or Reeves; and I've got to act before court actually opens."
"What do you mean by a dilemma?" she asked coldly. "Does any dilemma last long with you, Uncle, when there is any question of your own self-interest?"
His face flushed under the cool insolence of her tone. "It's a fine courtesy you have learned in your schooling!"
"Have you heard all her history now?" he asked after an icy pause.
"Not all of it, no. Enough to admire her, yes. Enough to understand how this town feels toward her, yes. Why don't you all burn her as a witch in the public square?"
"You have a bitter tongue, Anne," said he. "You are not like your sainted mother."
"A while ago you said I was! But my sainted mother, whom I never knew, never found herself in a situation such as this," rejoined Anne Oglesby. "At least, while my father lived, she had a man to fend for her. I have none. We are women only in this case."
"So it was your plan to marry a nameless man? You've sworn he always shall be nameless." The man's face showed a curious mixture of eagerness and anxiety. He wished to argue, to expound, but dared not face this young girl with the icy smile.