"My child, you must not vex yourself," says Lady North with all the tenderness of which she is capable—and Anatolia is bitterly crying all the while. "It will be all right. And you must not look sad to-day; for you know Mrs. Warrener and your friend Amy are coming to see you."
She does not seem to pay much heed.
"Shall we go for the flowers to-day?" she asks, with her dark wet eyes raised for the first time.
"My darling, this is not the day we go for the flowers; that is to-morrow."
"And what is the use of it?" she says, letting her head sink sadly again. "Every time I go over to Nunhead I listen all by myself—and I know he is not there at all. The flowers look pretty, because his name is over them. But he is not there at all—he is far away—and he was to send me a message—and every day I wait for it—and they keep the letter back. Mother, are all my dresses ready?"
"Yes, Violet."
"You are quite sure!"
"They are all ready, Violet. Don't trouble about that."
"It is the white satin one he will like the best; and he will be pleased that I am not in black like the others. Mother, Mrs. Warrener and Amy surely cannot mean to come to the wedding in black."
"Surely not, Violet. But come, dear, to your breakfast."