“Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. She really must not go to that affair. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. She cursed herself for a fool. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. As he fell, he caught at the projecting masonry. Such was the terror inspired by Wild's vindictive character, that few durst face him who had given him cause for displeasure. She was gone.
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