She shot a sudden glance at him. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. “I did,” Anna answered. But threats and entreaties—even promises were ineffectual; and the unlucky captive, after exhausting his powers of persuasion, was compelled to give up the point. “Even Katy Pfister can’t touch you now. Miss Miniver looked out on the world through large emotional blue eyes that were further magnified by the glasses she wore, and her nose was pinched and pink, and her mouth was whimsically petulant.
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