She was very pale, and there was a look of fear in her eyes. “MY DEAR VERONICA,—Your aunt tells me you have involved yourself in some arrangement with the Widgett girls about a Fancy Dress Ball in London. “I wish I didn’t swear. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. “What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. She hadn't measured up; she had been stupid; she hadn't known how to make love. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer.
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