Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. " "Dying!" echoed the knight. ” Sir John’s head bent lower and lower. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. John said nothing. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us.
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