Ann Veronica considered her answer. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. She did not resist him, she could not. But the Ramage affair needed clearing up, of course; it was a flaw upon that project. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning.
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