“I noticed him call her attention to us as we passed down the room,” he answered. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. Oh, you cannot escape from it. The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoining room. The watch was again consulted. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. ’ ‘That we shall see. That’s my advice. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. “Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us.
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