” Michelle said. ’ ‘But I am not stopping you from carrying on your business. I am a man—of a sort of experience. . “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. She is more dear to me than anything else. “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife.
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