Anna saw it, and for the first time found herself trembling. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. ” Lucy commented. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. "Going to befuddle himself between now and dinner," was the comment of Prudence. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy.
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