” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. Ann Veronica’s universe, which had never been altogether so respectful to her as she could have wished, gave a shout and whirled head over heels. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. Nor was he long in making it available. . Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. .
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