The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. S. ” He shook his head. Maggot had disappeared. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. If our young person hadn’t had the nurse part cut out, eh? She might have known more and done less. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. What more could any reasonable man— especially a watchman—desire? Besides, the Marquis, is a devilish fine fellow, and a particular friend of mine.
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