“I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. Your maid would not be of the least protection. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance.
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