At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands. Wood hadn't struck me. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. If so I shall have to leave. It'll be your turn to save mine next.
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