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They left the castle that day for another, packing with them the leftovers of the troupe that followed them from place to place, never asking about the occasional disappearance of one of its unlucky members. “Do you know, I have been wondering what had become of you,” she said. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. She was unusually helpful at breakfast, and unselfish about the eggs: and then she went off to catch the train before her father’s. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. I do not admit the truth of a word which you have said. .
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