Marriage was a taboo subject between them. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. The face that looked down upon Ann Veronica was full of amiable intention. The room was dark and dusty. Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter.
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