He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. You see to what it has brought you. She—She can snub him. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. He knew very well that his muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid.
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