” She shook her head deliberately, hopelessly. ” “Much better,” she agreed. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. I will endeavour. "Go on.
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