He opened the drawer of the writing table. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. \"I don't think so. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. “I have heard of you, of course,” Anna answered hesitatingly, “but——” “You cannot imagine what I have come to see you about. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. .
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