From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. . "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. They put her down, and she leaped at them; she smote a helmet to the ground. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. One must get them with exactly the same intensity. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle. 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. Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement.
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