CHAPTER XXIX. “Look here,” he cried out of a silence, with a sudden flash of understanding, “did you mean to throw me over when you came out with me this afternoon?” Ann Veronica hesitated, and with a startled mind realized the truth. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. I’ve never found them hostile. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling.
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