"I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. ” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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