So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. He figures them out, though. In some instances she tantalizes the victim for years and mocks him in the end. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully.
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