She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. “My God!” he said again. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. " "Poh! poh! say no more about it," rejoined the man hastily. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. Not I.
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