The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage. The Night-Cellar. "'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the superscription of one of them. Ennison with my sister last night. ” “Yes, but men;” said Ann Veronica, plunging; “don’t you want the love of men?” For some seconds they remained silent, both shocked by this question. “Maybe someday I can look them up again, just to see how they are doing. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool.
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