He had looked at it before without comprehension. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. “And for me it has been Pride and Pride and Pride! “I am the prodigal daughter. ” “I still——” Anna stopped short.
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