The animating spirit was gone--the mere shell of the woman lived and moved, a mockery of her former self.
"Oh, Anne! Anne! What _can_ have happened to you?
Are you frightened?
There's not the least fear of any body disturbing us.

They are all at luncheon, and the servants are at dinner.

We have the room entirely to ourselves.

My darling! you look so faint and strange! Let me get you something." Anne drew Blanche's head down and kissed her.

It was done in a dull, slow way--without a word, without a tear, without a sigh.
"You're tired--I'm sure you're tired.