“Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. . It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. “And besides,” said Ann Veronica, sweeping that aspect aside, “what could I do? A boy sails out into a trade or profession. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper.
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