“Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. "No, please! It is good luck for a dog to enter your house. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth.
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