"Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. "Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. The poor boy, imagining things! "That's want of substantial food. Rituals instead of medicines. Her gratitude swelled within her. While this was going on, Blueskin, seeing no notice whatever taken of him, coughed loudly and repeatedly.
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