Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. "Good work. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random. Ah Cum is a Yale man and so is this Taber. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver.
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