It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. Ann Veronica was apologetic to the bottom of her soul. ‘Gérard!’ Before she could react to this new menace, the captain spun round. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. . She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. ‘Wait for me.
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