” She yelled. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. It was Celeste’s idea. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. “Heavens!” exclaimed Ann Veronica, with extraordinary passion. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer.
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