Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. Earles is going out at twelve sharp—important engagement. Ennison better than I have ever told you,” she said slowly. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone.
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