Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. ’ ‘Your groom? What for?’ ‘Get him to wait outside. I’ve muddled all this business. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting. Loving was better than that. Life seemed a very brave and glorious enterprise to Ann Veronica that day. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched.
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