Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. “I think everything’s right,” said Ann Veronica, with the roaming eye of a capable but not devoted house-mistress. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. ” As the long, solitary days wore on, Ann Veronica found a number of definite attitudes and conclusions in her mind.
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