Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. “Thanks, I’m not very fond of coffee,” Anna answered, “and I hate music. But she doesn’t and won’t divorce me. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head.
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