"And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. There is no future for me here. "It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica.
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