And I want you for myself—for my wife. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. ” He looked at her very gravely. The burden of decision had been transferred. Once he suggested they should go to a music-hall and see a wonderful new dancer, but Ann Veronica did not feel she cared to see a new dancer. You’ll end up dead, that’s what. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover.
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