Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. When were you last confessed, Sir Rowland?" he added abruptly. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her.
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