I can no longer bear to address you by that formal madame. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. And let us go on with our evening. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. "I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack. " "By no means," rejoined Wood, hastily.
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