He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over.
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