She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. Earles thinks I am a little mad, and between ourselves I am not sure about it myself. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea.
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