" "Mr. The party resolved itself for Ann Veronica into a game in which she manoeuvred unostentatiously and finally unsuccessfully to avoid talking alone with this gentleman. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. Her soul was full of the sense of disaster. Ann Veronica wondered what her father would do if she were to tell him the full story of her relations with Ramage. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. We aren't between him and heaven; he is between us and heaven. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. You see, I have had to look after myself so long that I have developed a terrible bump of independence. All the same, I don’t admit it. He might be unfortunate, but he would scarcely be a fool. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. But it is my fault.
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