They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. "'T is he!" he mentally ejaculated. A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. "He has been indefatigable in his search," continued Winifred, "and has even journeyed to Manchester. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. And what will they do, and where will they go?" "With me—the both of them.
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