The thought made her exquisitely happy. “It’s a new phase in the life history,” he remarked. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. Without you, we might have had some trouble. It is of no use. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker.
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