Primarily it was her own problem, and in particular the answer she had to give to Mr. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. “I thought I saw her in town to-day,” he said. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down.
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