The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. ‘You could have fetched me home. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. Here are their letters. Ann Veronica halted a pace, and Miss Klegg came alongside. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. Lord knew why he had any interest in an impertinent girl who would certainly have spit him with that dagger! He reached into his pocket and brought it out, examining it in the increasing light as he slowly made his way back up the terrace.
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