James’ Park?” Anna nodded, and made a careful selection from a dish of quails. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. “You poor little girl!” he cried. 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.
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