The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. If you can imagine it, I survived it. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. A stomacher, fastened by imitationdiamond buckles, girded that part of her person, which should have been a waist; a coral necklace encircled her throat, and a few black patches, or mouches, as they were termed, served as a foil to the bloom of her cheek and chin. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. I applaud your prudence: it is, however, needless. There! You are trying to take your hand away.
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