” “Please tell me why?” she asked. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. I don’t know. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he. I was helpless. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. ” Ann Veronica was silent for a while. She had heard the trader utter it many times.
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