” The corners of her mouth rose in a weak smile and she gave him a wink. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images.
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