Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. The period of repression was over. The quiet encounter and home-coming Ann Veronica and she had contemplated was entirely disorganized by this misadventure; there were no adequate explanations, and after they had settled things at Ann Veronica’s lodgings, they reached home in the early afternoon estranged and depressed, with headaches and the trumpet voice of the indomitable Kitty Brett still ringing in their ears. "Good night!" "Blueskin," whispered Jack, in his natural tones, as the other passed him, "wait without. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. ” She replied. ‘And all to help me.
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