“That he should be in the same world with me!” said Ann Veronica, reduced to reading the list of good things the British Tea-Table Company had priced for its patrons. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. One transgression; he was sure of that. As soon as the service was over, Thames contrived to approach him, and whispered, "Be cautious,—the funeral will take place after evening service. But this I cannot do. "I took the course I pursued to serve you. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it.
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