She recognized the face but could not quite place it. Following his guide, Sir Rowland found himself in a large and lofty apartment, the extent of which he could not entirely discern until lights were set upon the table. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. There was no rush. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. Her birthday was four months away, and that, at its extremist point, might give her another five pounds. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her.
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