Better rub some tallow on your nose when you go to bed," said Miss Cornelia, who had come in through the little gate between the firs in time to catch Owen's last remark.
Miss Cornelia liked Owen; but it was a matter of principle with her to visit any "high-falutin" language from a man with a snub.
Miss Cornelia personated the comedy that ever peeps around the corner at the tragedy of life.

Anne, whose nerves had been rather strained, laughed hysterically, and even Owen smiled.

Certainly, sentiment and passion had a way of shrinking out of sight in Miss Cornelia's presence.

And yet to Anne nothing seemed quite as hopeless and dark and painful as it had seemed a few moments before.

But sleep was far from her eyes that night..