And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. The poor things! Oh, it was quite dreadful. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. He lit a cigarette and loitered about.
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