” He uttered thoughtfully. “But about last night. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. Bah. Wood," cried David, pouring out a glass of the spirit, and offering it to the carpenter, "that'll warm the cockles of your heart. She had begun alone. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple.
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