\" \"Oh, that is pretty. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. ’ ‘But me orders, sir? Are we to—’ ‘Gad, but that’s her,’ interrupted Roding suddenly. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself.
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