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"When can I see you?" he whispered anxiously. "I don't know," she whispered back; "every hour's taken." "What about Sunday afternoon?" "I've promised to motor out to Anchordale with Aunt Flo and Uncle Ranny to hunt for wild flowers. Think of it! When all this trouble's brewing." "Anchordale," repeated Quin absently, holding her coat suspended by the collar and one sleeve. "Anchordale! By golly!
There was a painful silence; then he spoke up hopefully: "I know where there are wild flowers to burn: I was at a place yesterday where you could hardly walk for them; I counted seven different kinds in a space about as big as this room." "Where?" demanded Mr. and Mrs. Ranny in one breath. "Out Anchordale way I don't know the name of the road. It's an out-of-the-way sort of place.
He's bought a little place out near Anchordale. They are living there." "And they did this without consulting me!" Madam's eyes blazed. "Why, he is no more capable of running a farm than a ten-year-old child! I have fought it for years. He knew perfectly well if he told me I'd stop it instantly. He will appeal to me to help out within six months, you'll see! I sha'n't do it!
"Only a small farm out near Anchordale, which belonged to my precious wife's father. It is quite as worthless as he was, poor dear! I have offered it repeatedly in payment, but they refused to consider it." "Is there a house on it?" persisted Quin. "Yes an uninhabitable old stone structure that has stood there for nearly a century. For years I have tried in vain to rent or sell it.
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