It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. Get you gone. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. And then you go—and half throttle me. Take your case, for instance. 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.
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