There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. She loved for him to regale her with the stories of his past, the days of ancient Greece. Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. Or shall I ask Colonel Anson for a few hints?” “For Heaven’s sake no,” she declared. “I can’t.
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