She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. I have very few friends in Paris. He refused his food,—and even when better provisions were offered him, rejected them. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way.
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