” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me. You remember that you saw us at the Savoy a few evenings ago?” “Yes. ” Brendon rose and came towards her with outstretched hand. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. You had better let me go again. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. Then, I thought, she has repented, all will be well. Heliers. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech.
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