He had heard of
several suitable posts, but so far he had not definitely accepted any one
of them. Probably within the next fortnight his decision would be made, and
Ann realised that leaving Silverquay would be somewhat of a wrench. She had
known both great happiness and great grief there, and a full measure of
those unreckoned hours of everyday fun and laughter and enjoyment which we
are all prone to accept so easily and without any very great gratitude,
only realising for how much they counted When they are suddenly taken
from us. But now, as the inevitable day of departure drew nearer, Ann
found herself face to face with the fact that, although she might leave
Silverquay itself behind, memories both sweet and bitter would forever hold
out their hands to her from the little sea-girt village. Sometimes she
would not be able to evade them. However fast she might hurry through life,
they would reach out and touch her, and she would feel those straining
hands against her heart.
And then, across her bitter-sweet musings, came the creak of the door as
some one pushed it quietly open, and entered the room.
"Ann!"
At the sound of that voice she felt as though every drop of blood in her
body had rushed to her heart and were throbbing there in one great
hammering pulse.
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