Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. ‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. \" Diane chirped once again, ever-musical.
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