She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. I may add that the family is well known to me. Until that was done a certain experience of life assured him that a girl is a locked coldness against a man’s approach. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired.
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