“I am afraid,” she answered, “that one’s friends can judge only of the externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized only by oneself— stop. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. There was no one to be seen. There were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. "Like a hero," answered Austin. ” He paced the room for a minute or two restlessly. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable.
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