At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. And for me there is only one treasure-house. Believe me, it will be better by far that you should consent to marry me. “I refuse. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. “For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. We will get on with the agreement and you shall have in it whatever rubbish you like. Go off and live together—until we can marry. ‘As I said, a mistake. ‘Damnation!’ Confused, he released her, and in an instant she had darted away and was running down the garden.
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