Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. When a mere child she fixed her affections upon a youth named Thames Darrell, whom her father brought up, and who perished, it is supposed, about nine years ago; and she has determined to remain faithful to his memory. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites.
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