CHAPTER XXVI. 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. ” “Not coming home!” “No!” And, in spite of her resolve to be a Person, Ann Veronica began to weep with terror at herself. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. Find your man, that’s the rule. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said.
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