“Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. A fever of shame ran through her being. They shouted to her from the wings to come off. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. . They can’t help seeing things in the way they do. Business exists for such interruptions. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat.
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