” Miss Stanley rose and regarded Ann Veronica fixedly. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation. For she needed him. Spurling in alarm. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. I want you to understand clearly that I was indebted to the man in many small ways. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. There was nothing to be learned from her face.
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