Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. . " "Loves!" echoed Winifred, slightly colouring. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. His glance came up again and met hers. Good-bye, Anna!” Annabel sprang up. . Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. ‘But I am perfectly serious,’ he returned in a voice of protest.
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