“Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream.
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