"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. ” “I can spare it,” Anna answered suavely. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather. Section 2. Bordered by fine timber, the road occasionally offered glimpses of a lovely valley, until a wider opening gave a full view of a delightful and varied prospect.
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