" "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood. It would be easy enough for me to write an eloquent letter about something else. You are restless, aggressive, critical with all the crude unthinking criticism of youth. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. . Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. ’ Again, Melusine did not waste words. I speak no harm of her.
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