“Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict. Well, I am Nigel Ennison’s sister!” “Oh!” Anna said. He had done it. Ann Veronica brought her luggage in a cab from the hotel; she tipped the hotel porter sixpence and overpaid the cabman eighteenpence, unpacked some of her books and possessions, and so made the room a little homelike, and then sat down in a by no means uncomfortable arm-chair before the fire. " Neither man spoke. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. Sister’s got married to that bounder Ferringhall.
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