That I should be challenged by you of all people. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. Many little things had contributed to that decision. ‘Because she, naturally enough, does not consider that it is in any way my affair. “Not to-night,” she said. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. The carpenter threw himself flat upon the starling to avoid the fury of the wind. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use.
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