‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. She disengaged her hands and stood up. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. Oh! and love—love! We’ve had so splendid a time, and fought our fight and won. “Homely?” “Well, yeah, that’s what he said. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it.
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