“You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. “Well anyhow—I don’t see the force of your objection, you know. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. When ninety per cent.
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