She was very tall and her figure was lank and angular . She had a long , pale face and dusky hair . Her eyes had been good -- a glimmering hazel , large and long-lashed . They were pretty yet , but the crow 's feet about them were plainly visible . There were brackets around her mouth too , and her cheeks were hollow . Anne suddenly realized , as she had never realized before , that she had grown old -- that her youth was left far behind . She was an old maid , and Harriet Warren was young , and pretty . Anne 's long , thin lips suddenly quivered . `` I declare , I 'm a worse fool than Jerome , '' she said angrily . When Saturday night came Jerome did not . The corner of the big , old-fashioned porch where he usually sat looked bare and lonely . Anne was short with Octavia and boxed the cat 's ears and raged at herself . What did she care if Jerome Irving never came again ? She could have married him years ago if she had wanted to -- everybody knew that ! At sunset she saw a buggy drive past her gate . Even at that distance she recognized Harriet Warren 's handsome , high-coloured profile . It was Jerome 's new buggy and Jerome was driving . The wheel spokes flashed in the sunlight as they crept up the hill . Perhaps they dazzled Anne 's eyes a little ; at least , for that or some other reason she dabbed her hand viciously over them as she turned sharply about and went upstairs . Octavia was practising her music lesson in the parlour below and singing in a sweet shrill voice .
The hired men were laughing and talking XXXXX the yard .
about as for if in of over past that with