Into one of these he waded and rolled and rolled, despite her commands. He bent over to Anna at once. The man was mad to marry me. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. She could not say a word, much less move. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood.
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