Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. Anna stepped back at once with a little gasp of relief. “There is no time for that. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. You look very handsome. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be.
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