Ann Veronica watched him from the dining-room window, and after some moments of maidenly hesitation rambled out into the garden in a reverse direction to Mr. ” “Now look here, Ann Veronica,” said Mr. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote. ” Ann Veronica had three things very definitely settled by the time when, a little after mid-day, she found herself perched up on a gate between a bridle-path and a field that commanded the whole wide stretch of country between Chalking and Waldersham. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. It wasn’t clear to me that I had to explain. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. Let’s go. Heaven knows why! They don’t marry most of us off now until high up in the twenties.
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