” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. I think that I will tell you. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. The farmer was a widow who was slightly famous around town for his prize cows and slightly more famous for his good looks. He heard the woman talking again. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. You bring me this grandfather, whom you know well I do not in the least wish to see, for I have told you so.
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