In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. He was caked with dried muck. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. . Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking. "But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife.
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