” “Forty what?” Anna asked bewildered. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches.
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