Oh, cuss it!” “Eh?” “He said I would. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. She did not forge a note. She leaned back in her chair. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. “You said you were in love with me,” said Ann Veronica; “I wanted to explain —” “I said I loved and wanted you. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life.
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