“Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly. “I think,” began Ann Veronica, “that you don’t realize—” He disregarded her entirely. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. Capes scored back with an uncompromising vigor that was his way of complimenting her intelligence. " "That child may be the means of saving me," muttered the stranger, as if struck by a new idea: "I shall gain time by the expedient. Your aunt liked the pheasant. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred.
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