She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. Carefully abstaining from thrusting against each other, Ann Veronica and her father began an absurdly desperate struggle, the one to open the door, the other to keep it fastened. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. “I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. . Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. Until the last moment she was afraid. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. He was not able to recognize, as the doctor did, that she was only a natural woman.
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