. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. . She continued to fan herself. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. ”) Well, they might say that, but he knew very well that before long they would regret it.
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