“Yes, but maybe later. Taber is very ill. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. She spoke slowly. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere. There was no longer any risk in association with her. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. Neither father, aunt, nor brothers made a sign, and then one afternoon in early February her aunt came up in a state between expostulation and dignified resentment, but obviously very anxious for Ann Veronica’s welfare. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over.
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