The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. His subjects, however, were no longer entirely under his control; and, though he managed to enforce some little attention to his commands, it was evident his authority was waning fast. Tell him the truth, Annabel. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. Tell the whole truth. “And now, look at us! See what we have become. " "You are from America?" "Yes. ‘That is, if she’s gone that way. But she veiled her feelings. Give me your hand. “Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. "God in Heaven!" he cried, "the floor is covered with blood.
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