It melted her heart. “We don’t pretend. Dutch; Pennsylvania Dutch. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. After that consolations fled. Ruth Enschede, Hartford, Conn.
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