Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. To her intense disappointment, she discovered that all papers had been removed from desks and cupboards. So presently they got into a hansom together, and Ann Veronica sat back feeling very luxurious and pleasant, and looked at the light and stir and misty glitter of the street traffic from under slightly drooping eyelids, while Ramage sat closer to her than he need have done, and glanced ever and again at her face, and made to speak and said nothing. . Why, is the question I would like answered. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. Surely it was a dream. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar.
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