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“The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. “You look more like your old self when you smile,” he remarked.
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