Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. “Mr. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. “The man alone could supply any, and if he recovers sufficiently to say anything, what he would say would exonerate you. “Vee,” she said, “come home. She thought she had hidden well from him. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. So she said: “I won’t come home. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps.
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