You are much more like what I was then. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. Mild, you know, and boon. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. Abruptly the sterner look vanished and she twinkled. He will be here in a moment or so, and you will then learn his determination. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things.
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