She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. Our ideal had fallen. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. “Wonderful man!” said Ann Veronica, reassured, and stroking his cheek with her finger. A sudden knock at the door startled her. ‘And I am thinking now that you may be very suitable. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. Anna was singing as she used to sing. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. Then the distant relationship to Miss Stanley gave them a slight but pleasant sense of proprietorship in the girl. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth.
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