The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather. She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand.
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