If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. Wood the carpenter. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. “I must go. ” Even in the glamour of Miss Brett’s assurance it seemed to Ann Veronica that this was, after all, no more than the gospel of Miss Miniver with a new set of resonances. They were the same.
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