don’t have time. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. She responded at once, rapping him on the knuckles with her fan. He called Enschede the Bellower. “I never dreamt!” she said. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays. ” There was silence between them.
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