The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. ’ ‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. Ann Veronica was not ready enough to deal with that counter-stroke. ” Ann Veronica turned her back on the Michaelmas daisies, and faced toward the house with an air of a duty completed.
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