She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Wood—and after him came his daughter. Let him have his honeymoon. Stonily he had disengaged himself. What isn’t a day-dream is this: that you and I are going to put an end to flummery—and go!” “Go!” said Ann Veronica, clenching her hands. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart.
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