It filled her with indefinable fear. . The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. I consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. ’ ‘Oh, peste,’ exclaimed Melusine crossly. I believe that I have heard my sister speak of you.
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