Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. In his way he was critical. He was—a millionaire. Not afraid of me, either. For she knew that men married to get something. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest.
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