The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. ” Ann Veronica had remained standing while her aunt spoke. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint.
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