"I hope not. To-night all London believes that he was your husband. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. So presently they got into a hansom together, and Ann Veronica sat back feeling very luxurious and pleasant, and looked at the light and stir and misty glitter of the street traffic from under slightly drooping eyelids, while Ramage sat closer to her than he need have done, and glanced ever and again at her face, and made to speak and said nothing. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all.
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