She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. “I shot him. ” Anna laughed, and went back to her easy chair. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. Before a month has elapsed, your mother will be mine.
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