” “I came here to talk reasonably, Mr. Ramage?” he asked. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. Perhaps that was the reason that they both remained standing. A nod was exchanged. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. I don’t care.
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