Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “Um, I really shouldn’t tell you this, but he said. "Yes, or no?" "I will make no terms with you," rejoined Wild, sternly. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her.
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