I don’t suggest any philanthropy. ” Miss Stanley rose and regarded Ann Veronica fixedly. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. ” Anna lifted her hand and pushed open the trap door. Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden.
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