Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. ’ ‘Well, let us leave your name for the present. I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff. ” And to them were presently added a roguish-looking young man, with reddish hair, an orange tie, and a fluffy tweed suit, and others who, in Ann Veronica’s memory, in spite of her efforts to recall details, remained obstinately just “others. Earles?” he inquired. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. My own impression is that he already knows. ’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm.
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