“LOOKS all right,” said Ann Veronica, regarding him with her head first on one side and then on the other, and trying to be agreeable. I sang to him, and he was satisfied. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Was the young lady impatient for experience? Was she adventurous? As a man of the world he did not think it becoming to accept maidenly calm as anything more than a mask. “For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment.
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