His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. That was the inconvenience of it; her head was swimming. An uncomfortable silence followed. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland. ” “I suppose so. He kissed her ardently. “I did,” Anna answered. . She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. This she would not endure.
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