Ann Veronica looked bright and a little elated, and she disregarded her father’s invitation to be seated. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. " "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. “I don’t suppose you’ll be able to do it much,” said Ann Veronica.
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