Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. She bounced onto her bottom. "There he is!" cried Winifred, starting up, joyfully, and proving by the exclamation that her thoughts were dwelling upon one subject only. Until now none of her prayers had ever been answered. Manning. If Ray left the house, it would be easy.
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