“You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. She recoiled. Those I don’t mind, though, the games. If they do, now and then, run away with a knocker, paint a sign, beat the watch, or huff a magistrate, they pay for their pastime, and that's sufficient. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said. “Marriage and mothering,” said Ann Veronica, with her mind crystallizing out again as the lark dropped to the nest in the turf.
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