“And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. I don’t think any surroundings could throw a shadow on you. Manning’s handwriting had an air of being clear without being easily legible; it was large and rather roundish, with a lack of definition about the letters and a disposition to treat the large ones as liberal-minded people nowadays treat opinions, as all amounting to the same thing really—a yearssmoothed boyish rather than an adult hand. The kind of man who isn’t content with his science, and writes articles in the monthly reviews.
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