Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. I believe that he will marry her. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. . The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. She ought to have leapt back on guard. .
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