They litter up the room. “Well, rather,” said Ann Veronica. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter. ” Ennison thought so too half an hour later, when having cut out from one of the bridge tables he settled down for a chat with Annabel. “The next question, Miss Anna,” he said, “is how am I to help you? I am wholly at your disposal.
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