It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. “The first person you love, Ann Veronica, is yourself—get hold of that! The soul you have to save is Ann Veronica’s soul. The weather harmonized with their feelings. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. Believe me, Anna.
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