“You mean?”
“There may be a little difficulty about getting out. We could not leave the State, anyhow, and—”
“And what? We can go somewhere else in the State, I suppose. I am not particularly in love with this section of the union, but it all makes little difference after one reaches a certain point.”
“Poor old girl!” said Carroll.
Anna looked at him, and her eyes suffused and her mouth quivered. Then she smiled her usual smile of mocking courage, even bravado. “Oh, well,” said she, “I have faced the situation and chewed my cud of experience for a good many years now, and I am used to it. I may even end up by tasting the sweet in the bitter.”
“You had as hard an experience in another line as I had. I don't know but it was harder.”
“No harder, I reckon,” Anna replied, almost indifferently. “It was the same thing—the doll stuffed with sawdust, and all that; you with a friend, and I with a lover. Well, it is all over now.”
“It isn't; that is the worst of it,” Carroll said, gloomily.
“I don't see why.”
“A sequence is never over. There is even all eternity for it.”