” Brendon rose and came towards her with outstretched hand. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. It was a mass of knick-knacks. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. . Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. ” Thank Heaven! Mr.
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