Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains. ‘Until today. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. Then for a time she forgot the Fadden affair altogether. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment.
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