I want you to be my lover. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. Anyhow, they didn’t run about so much. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. Ann Veronica had a number of fragmentary impressions of Alice strangely transfigured in bridal raiment.
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