’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. “The first person you love, Ann Veronica, is yourself—get hold of that! The soul you have to save is Ann Veronica’s soul. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. I could resist the tempter now, I am strong in health,—in mind. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. Has he given you the tools?" "He has," replied Bess, producing the handkerchief. ” Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris.
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