The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. "It's Mrs. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons.
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