Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Manning’s letter. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. “Well anyhow—I don’t see the force of your objection, you know. From the first, Ann Veronica found him an exceptionally interesting man. ‘Quickly! You must get up.
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