He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer. “Women know these things by instinct,” she answered. She sighed with relief. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. We'll come back for that by and by, and the dressing-gown. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger.
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