” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. It was open.
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