" "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. Presently. She told the porter to take it to the booking-office, and it was only after a disconcerting moment or so that she found she ought to have directed him to go to the cloak-room. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. Her sister had told him that it was true. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. " "Thames!" "Have I said anything to offend you?" "Oh! no. These sham ideals and advanced notions. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. “I will not have this slavery,” she said. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions.
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