” “Anything except that,” he murmured. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. The very facts that Miss Miniver never stated an argument clearly, that she was never embarrassed by a sense of self-contradiction, and had little more respect for consistency of statement than a washerwoman has for wisps of vapor, which made Ann Veronica critical and hostile at their first encounter in Morningside Park, became at last with constant association the secret of Miss Miniver’s growing influence.
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