He opened the drawer of the writing table. CHAPTER XXI. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary.
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