There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. ” Anna leaned back in the chair and laughed softly. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love.
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