” “Annabel knew where I lived,” Anna continued slowly. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. 148 “Sure. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out.
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