He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Farewell. You cannot arrest yourself. “I am a fool,” he said. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy. Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality.
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