“You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. Death belongs to God, young man. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. ” She glanced at him, and it was suddenly apparent for one instant of illumination that this ring upon her finger was the crowning blunder of her life. So I come suppliant. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. A few days ago I saw him leave your house. But no; she must step warily.
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