“My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. Return, I implore of you, to your master,—to Mr. " "I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly, "but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. You are afraid of the warmth in your blood.
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