Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. Let me engage myself. ” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again.
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