No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. “The adventures I do not doubt, Annabel,” she said. “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace.
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