" "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. I do not care, but only that you will leave my affairs to me. Pretty good stuff, some of it. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. "No such thing," rejoined Thames. ’ ‘People are silly. “It is a very pleasant place,” said Ann Veronica, biting a rhododendron stalk through, and with that faint shadow of a smile returning to her lips. ’ ‘What?’ gasped Gerald, shocked. ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. “I suppose I shall have to write an answer.
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