“Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. Her companion was a person of no inferior condition. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. We both understood that. May I know your name?’ The lady eyed him. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. I might as well be at Morningside Park. I only seen her when she come with that Sister Martha. Her voice was weak and flat. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now.
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