’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously. Which is C?” Ann Veronica, with a curious sinking of the heart, regarded the black cavities of the vans. As to following, there was no one. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. I rarely set foot in London these days. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. CHAPTER VII.
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