He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. "Your sympathy is being wasted. Nothing can alter my determination. Before there is any change, any real change, I shall be dead—dead—dead and finished—two hundred years!. For the fresh and feverish hue of lip which years ago characterised this feature, was now substituted a pure and wholesome bloom, evincing a total change of habits; and, though the coarse character of the mouth remained, in some degree, unaltered, it was so modified in expression, that it could no longer be accounted a blemish. I’d do anything, Vee. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. C.
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