I came to see you on my own account. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. She moved then, fast, taking refuge behind a Chinese screen that was set beside the four-poster at the back of the room. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. She dare not risk it.
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