“And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. ” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. Her hair once more was arranged with its old simplicity. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. That is what stands between us, if you would know—that. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor.
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