They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. Miss Stanley threw aside a black cloak to reveal a discreet and dignified arrangement of brown silk, and then embraced Ann Veronica with warmth. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. Ramage—about the forty pounds. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous.
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