He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. What can a girl do? Somewhere at this point Ann Veronica’s speculations were interrupted and turned aside by the approach of a horse and rider. ‘It is the life I know.
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