Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. "You shall not pass," cried several of the crowd. 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. Stanley went on, “but there are things— there are stories about Ramage. Annabel shook her head. ” Then she fell to thinking about her aunt.
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