Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. “You—appear to know my name, sir,” Sir John said. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed.
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