“That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. The weed was all right. Many other wards,—especially on the Master Debtor's side,—have been necessarily omitted in the foregoing hasty enumeration. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. This threat terrified Ann Veronica so much that she declared with sobs and vehemence that she would never come home again, and for a time both talked at once and very wildly.
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