How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. “What are you doing?” He cried. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy. You guys don’t fool around, that was one big Thanksgiving dinner. If you talk of your faults, I shall talk of your splendors. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles.
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