I wish very much that you had written before leaving Paris. ” “You said you loved me – did you mean it?” He said. ‘Wait a minute, though. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. They vanished through the doorway. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards.
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