Ennison paused by the little gate. ‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband—I have only him. Not then. The ticket line filtered slowly into the glass doors, growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. Wood as a play-room to the two boys; and, like most boy's playrooms, it exhibited a total absence of order, or neatness. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees.
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