" Thames Darrell was, indeed, a youth of whom a person of far greater worldly consequence than the worthy carpenter might have been justly proud. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. ‘You kissed me that you might make me find it for you instead?’ ‘I had no such intention. ” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand.
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