Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. But if we had gone under—!” They regarded one another silently, and Ann Veronica had one of her penetrating flashes. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. “There isn’t any way you could be worse than John.
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