He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. “Hey you,” he said affectionately. "My sight is failing me. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself.
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