" "What!" exclaimed Mrs. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. ‘No, for you had your own selfish plans already made, that is now seen. But that is men all over. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. “Look at me. It comes over the mountains, Anna, pink darkening into orange red, everywhere a wonderful cloud sea, scintillating with colour. Your purposes are defeated. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he. Later on I could scarcely have forgiven you.
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