"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. I have been waiting a long time for a family like them. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. She could not part with dignity. It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters.
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