don’t have time. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. It was the girl. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. Before our marriage there will be no life between you and the estates.
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