Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it.
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