. Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. "Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn't expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. ‘Well, nothing,’ uttered her betrothed crossly, before Gerald could answer. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service.
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