"Once for all, I shall go. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. ” She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night’s supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. Suddenly, she heard the crunch of new feet on the gravel. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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