” “I do it—of my own free will,” said Ann Veronica, kissing his hand again. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. Hugging him in the beautiful dress in front of the teenagers was strangely soothing to her. He dissected rather awkwardly and hurriedly, but, on the whole, effectively, and drew with an impatient directness that made up in significance what it lacked in precision. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence.
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