” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna.
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