He had a peculiar way of stepping in, in a parry; knew his arm, and its just time of moving; put a firm faith in that, and never let his opponent escape. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. The carpenter well knew from the obstacle which had interfered with his own progress, that the unknown could not have passed through the same lock as himself. He turned. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. Never mind. It is not at all comme il faut. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. But at last this ordeal was over, and Ramage opened the door. “I want an engagement. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him.
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