" The worthy carpenter was now far more angry with himself than he had previously been with Mrs. . It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. Perhaps because I don’t know. She said”—Ann Veronica shivered again—“‘I hope it won’t make you uncomfortable, my dear’—like that—‘and whatever you do, do be careful of your hair!’ I think—I judge from her manner—that she thought it was just a little indelicate of us—considering everything; but she tried to be practical and sympathetic and live down to our standards. ” He stroked her hand gently. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. ” A little blond creature close at hand suddenly gave way to a fit of hysterical laughter, and caught up the end of it with a sob. He told her something about music, the great world outside. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore.
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