For all that, it is folly. Anna stood looking down upon her sister with grave perturbed face. Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. \"Mom! You’re home early!” Michelle exclaimed. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. She listened, listened intently for several minutes. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. ” “But what are you going to do—where are you going to live?” Annabel asked.
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