“Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. Mr. Lucy arranged her hair as Michelle had taught her instead of combing it out. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. It would not be possible otherwise to live in daily contact with this level-eyed, lovely girl without loving her.
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