“You had only to ask——” “Do you think,” Anna interrupted, with a note of passion trembling also in her tone, “that I would have taken alms from Sir John, the man to whom I had lied for your sake. My vengeance is completely gratified. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy.
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