"Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. “You are late,” she murmured. ” She taunted. G'night, kids.
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