\" He said. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. The less she lived, in fact, the better. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. Look what you have brought upon your pets. Mrs.
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