He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. But I have remembered the horse and have asked this sergeant that a soldier fetch him. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. “He does not come here,” she exclaimed, quickly. " Mrs. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected.
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