Ann Veronica intervened a little in the novelist discussion with a defence of Esmond and a denial that the Egoist was obscure, and when she spoke every one else stopped talking and listened. Even the stars were strangers. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. "'Odd's! bodikins!" cried Jack, rubbing his cheek, "I'm in luck to-day. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. "Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. ” They talked for a while in somewhat dreamy fashion, Anna especially being more silent than usual.
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