Dorling said. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. Mrs Sindlesham occupied a large padded armchair to one side of a corner fireplace, which gave out a heat more than adequate for September to one of the major’s robust constitution. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified.
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