The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. “Thank you—and good-bye. I have said your life is in danger, Thames. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. The door opened. Tell me, what are these bananas and nuts for?” “Dessert. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. "I am come to render you a service.
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