But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. “Hullo!” Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took Anna’s hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of content. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell.
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