" "That is your fault, none of mine. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. "Now, let's see who'll dare to take him down," she cried. ” To remain, she felt, was to concede everything. Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. “I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. ” Anna raised her eyes, and caught the earnest gaze of an elderly gentleman with a double chin, a protuberant under lip, and a snuff-stained coat. But they did what they could for her.
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