‘Ha!’ uttered Captain Roding triumphantly. . . It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. Bordered by fine timber, the road occasionally offered glimpses of a lovely valley, until a wider opening gave a full view of a delightful and varied prospect. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. And I’d do it again for you if needs be. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it.
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