The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. 6. . McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. What do you think people will make of that? What will this lover of yours make of that?” At intervals Ann Veronica demanded to go, declaring her undying resolve to repay him at any cost, and made short movements doorward.
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