His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. “No,” said Ann Veronica, “but I want to know. I must apologize for my young puppy of a clerk. It loves to sit on your knee. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. Teddy Widgett hovered on the fringe of all these gatherings, blinking at Ann Veronica and occasionally making a wildly friendly dash at her, and carrying her and Miss Miniver off to drink cocoa with a choice diversity of other youthful and congenial Fabians after the meetings. “I have made no progress with my work,” she said slowly, “and the money was gone.
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