In my mother's last illness Anne was a greater comfort to her than Laura." "Should you ever think of a wife on your own score, she may not like this warm praise of Miss Anne Ashton," said Lady Maude, assiduously drawing, her hot face bent down to within an inch of the cardboard.
"Not like it?
She wouldn't be such an idiot, I hope, as to dislike it.

Is not Anne going to be my brother's wife?
Did you suppose I spoke of Anne in that way ?--you must have been dreaming, Maude." Maude hoped she had been.

The young man took his cigar from his mouth, ran a penknife through the end, and began smoking again.
"That time is far enough off, Maude.

_I_ am not going to tie myself up with a wife, or to think of one either, for many a long year to come." Her heart beat with a painful throbbing.

"Why not ?" "No danger.