" "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. Mr. It’s John. I am grateful, indeed I am. “I never wanted to kick any one so much in my life as that second fellow.
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