After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. I always thought that I could find and destroy all of her children, but there was no keeping up with it. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. She could not see clearly. There it is. If not, I'll take a cheerful glass with you at the City of Oxford, on my way to Tyburn.
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