“I wonder which of us is right,” she said. Ought she to walk into some of these places and tell them what she could do? She hesitated at the window of a shipping-office in Cockspur Street and at the Army and Navy Stores, but decided that perhaps there would be some special and customary hour, and that it would be better for her to find this out before she made her attempt. She was not a reversion to type, which intimates the primordial; she suggested rather the incarnation of some goddess of the South Seas. With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat.
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