“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. “I do love you. Immortal! You were in the beginning, and all the men in the world who have known what love is have worshipped at your feet. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. ‘Exactement. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. . But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H.
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