The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. ” “Yes,” said Ann Veronica. ‘And what the devil do you mean by demanding that I wait on you here? D’you think I haven’t enough to do handling that caper-witted female’s affairs, without dancing attendance on you?’ ‘Don’t be cross,’ begged Lucilla, much to Melusine’s disgust. She must not show anything. She confided in me yesterday. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is.
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