You might even tire of me by then, you know. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. " "The White Hollyhock would fit her better. With his foodle doo! This carpenter he had a wife, The plague and torment of his life, Who, though she did her husband scold, Loved well a woollen-draper bold.
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