“You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. 1. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth.
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