It never struck Mrs.Herrick that she had simply no life of her own--that at seventeen or eighteen a girl craves for congenial companionship, pleasant occupation, and a fair amount of amusement.
When Anna was liberated from the schoolroom, she would have liked to go to picture-galleries, attend concerts, and mix with interesting people; in spite of her shyness and gentleness, she had plenty of mind and character, and Malcolm had already cultivated her artistic tastes.

One summer, indeed, they had gone abroad, and Malcolm had been with them, and for two months Anna felt they had been in the anteroom of Paradise.
"The summer we spent in Switzerland and in the Austrian Tyrol," were words perpetually on Anna's lips.

Poor child, she little guessed, as she built up wonderful castles in the air, that it would be long before she had such a holiday again.
It was an evil moment for Anna when she volunteered to learn typewriting, that she might help her adopted mother; from that day she became the willing slave bound at the chariot wheels of a good-natured despot.

No amount of work tired Mrs.Herrick; she had the strength and vitality of ten women.

It never entered her head that a growing girl in her teens was liable to flag and grow weary, and so the pretty pink roses that had bloomed among Alpine snows faded out of Anna's cheeks, and the soft brown eyes grew heavy.
Anna never complained; if her back ached and her head was hot and throbbing, Mrs.Herrick never knew it, and she was quite indignant when Malcolm spoke to her of Anna's changed looks.
"She is not strong, and she is doing far too much.