“I’m next, Mr. But if we had gone under—!” They regarded one another silently, and Ann Veronica had one of her penetrating flashes. He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. ’ She paused, struggling for the word.
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