"Spring!—I never knew any. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. “Child!” he cried. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. When they came to the round-house, Terry's courage failed him. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. I don’t want to hear you. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. I hear her coming.
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