Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. She saw it, and checked without thinking. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire.
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