The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. "You have both," replied Wood, fervently. "Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn't expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. Good night.
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