“No. Anna, you are nervous.”
“Martin was impudent yesterday, when you were out, about his pay. He talked about going to a lawyer.”
Carroll made an impatient movement. “If he does not stop coming to you about it—”
“He is afraid of you. Then Maria came and cried. She says she has lost her lover, because she did not have decent clothes to wear.”
“Anna, they shall not trouble you again. Don't, dear. Why, I never knew you to fret so before!”
“I never did. I never minded it all so much before. I think I am ill. There is a dull pain all the time in the back of my neck, and I do not sleep at all well. Then my mental attitude seems suddenly to have changed. I was capable of defiance always, of seeing the humor in the situation, even if it was such an oft-repeated joke, and such a mighty poor one; but now, even if I start with a glimpse of the funny side of it, suddenly I collapse, and all at once I am beaten.”
Carroll stroked her graceful, dark head. “There is nothing for it but you must go, honey.”
“Arthur, I will not. It may be better for the others, but as for me, I will not.”
“Yes, you will, Anna, honey.”
“Arthur Carroll!”