"Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. Her sister Alice seemed to have developed a religious sense away there in Yorkshire, and made appeals that had no meaning for Ann Veronica’s mind. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. There was a recurrence of fever, but nothing alarming. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying.
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