ANNA AND JOHN
He found her in a tasteful gown, its heavy tassels almost sweeping the floor, while her long, glossy hair, loosened from its confinement of ribbon and comb, covered her neck and shoulders as she sat before the fire always kindled in her room.
"How picturesque you look," he said, gayly.
"John," and Anna's voice was soft and pleasing, "was Charlie greatly changed? Tell me, please."
"I was so young in the days when he came wooing that I hardly remember how he used to look. I should not have known him, but my impression is that he looks about as well as men of forty usually look."
"Not forty, John, only thirty-eight," Anna interposed.
"Well, thirty-eight, then. You remember his age remarkably well," John said, laughingly, adding: "Did you once love him very much?"
"Yes," and Anna's voice faltered a little.
"Why didn't you marry him, then?"
John spoke excitedly, and the flush deepened on his cheek when Anna answered meekly: