Wood, furiously. The day comes when you shall regret how you have spoken to me. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. The last piece was Scheherazade. So, when I tell you she loves you, I know. You go home and live on the G. ’ ‘A pretty tale.
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