He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. Squire and master. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another.
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