"I shouldn't wonder," replied Mrs. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. Such a time that it takes for them to go. She trembled; but she did not know why.
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