207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. Teddy Widgett hovered on the fringe of all these gatherings, blinking at Ann Veronica and occasionally making a wildly friendly dash at her, and carrying her and Miss Miniver off to drink cocoa with a choice diversity of other youthful and congenial Fabians after the meetings. Did he see him, this Monsieur Charvill?’ ‘I don’t rightly know, miss,’ confessed Kimble.
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