Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. Nowhere could he see that reaching, menacing Hand. The letter will explain all. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. You would not have believed me, I know well.
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