Do you mean to tell me you didn’t understand why I wanted you to come here?” “Not a bit of it,” said Ann Veronica stoutly. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. I hated him. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. However, I daresay that we shall come across one another before long. “No.
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