Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat. A wrathful God was watching him. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. ‘To where has he gone off?’ ‘No use asking me,’ shrugged the captain. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. It would be swindling. The danger or difficulty of an exploit never appalled him. ’ ‘Yes, but in fact you’ve offered me far more entertainment than any French spy could have done. E. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. This intercourse, which had been planned to warm Ann Veronica to a familiar affection with Ramage, was certainly warming Ramage to a constantly deepening interest in Ann Veronica.
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