"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. That dress is thirty years old, if a day. ” Her father’s irony deepened. "Nobody has so much cause for complaint as me," growled Austin. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll.
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