I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. They had as many designations as grades. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. It is nothing at all for you to worry about. “So you come from Anna, do you?” she remarked.
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