She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. CHAPTER XXVI. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. What do you think, Annabel?” “I don’t think they would,” she admitted. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs. . This threat terrified Ann Veronica so much that she declared with sobs and vehemence that she would never come home again, and for a time both talked at once and very wildly.
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