“I shall never marry,” said Ann Veronica, resolutely; “I’m not the sort. “Only married a few months ago and lived out at Hampstead. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. Spurling. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke.
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