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The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. The quiet encounter and home-coming Ann Veronica and she had contemplated was entirely disorganized by this misadventure; there were no adequate explanations, and after they had settled things at Ann Veronica’s lodgings, they reached home in the early afternoon estranged and depressed, with headaches and the trumpet voice of the indomitable Kitty Brett still ringing in their ears. “The little English girl is very fortunate. She’s taken my sword. If she’s over, he probably knows all about it. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive. If they hadn't sent for me, you'd have pegged out before morning. ’ ‘From you,’ the lady threw at him furiously. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Ah, Thierry and Poussaint, if my memory serves me. But finding all continue silent, he cautiously lifted the latch, and crept into the room, resolved to punish the offender in case his suspicions should prove correct. She was the High Priestess.
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