‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. But I never found any truth in the saying. ’ ‘What?’ uttered Gerald, startled. ” She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. I do not even know his name.
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