The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. “I wonder,” he said, “if women do know things by instinct? I have my doubts about feminine instinct. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. Ann Veronica blushed. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. “Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. And, in addition, she was now seeing and talking to Ramage almost weekly, on a theory which she took very gravely, that they were exceptionally friends.
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