“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. I’m off to England. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind. “You poor thing.
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