Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Almost had Martha won out. "Let it pass. . Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. "I thought it best that you should imagine him. Sheppard.
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