He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. This I have sworn to do—this I will do. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two. Wild's orders. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand.
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