“Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. ‘I recall my father speaking of you as a Remenham. Little by little, she stopped hating him. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown.
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