“How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. 270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. “You have them both,” Anna answered. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. They want some fun, and there isn't any. Her lips parted, but no words came. Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon. ‘Only perhaps I can more readily do so if you will put down that pistol.
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