” 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. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack. ‘The whole town is talking. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. It was enough.
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