A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. You want to think for a time, to be free for a time. Ann Veronica felt no repulsion at the prospect. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.
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