“Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. ’ ‘Also madame his wife—’ Charvill’s gorge rose. She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. \"Really.
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