He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. If I’d known, there would have been a different story. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief. He says only that he must tie up all the loose ends. She never knew what became of her farmer after that.
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