His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the “open sesame” to the whole world of pleasure. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. "Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly. \" She said, bashful. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. ‘Idiot. ‘Major Gerald Alderley, I arrest you in the name of the King. ’ ‘Woof!’ Sergeant Trodger’s eyes fairly popped out of his head, and he seized his prisoner’s arm again.
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