Am I going to die?” “I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state,” Courtlaw answered gravely. Ann Veronica considered her answer. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. That’s the difficulty.
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