And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. What was his problem, she thought to herself. She waited expectantly. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. She drew it out with shaking fingers. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. . Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom.
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