Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. ” Annabel looked intently into her glass. Dolls. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. O'Higgins wandered into this street and that, studying the signs and resenting the Britisher's wariness in using too much tin and paint. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired.
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