Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. “You cowards!” said Ann Veronica, “put her down!” and tore herself from a detaining hand and battered with her fists upon the big red ear and blue shoulder of the policeman who held the little old lady. “Never heard anything of it. He refused to believe that Anna was not ‘Alcide. It had seemed to her that life might be very good indeed with his kindliness and sacrifice about her. This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey Hill or not. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady.
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