The others hurried to the window. To-night all London believes that he was your husband. Mr. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. Ann Veronica readjusted her chin on her hand. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice.
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