For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence. Ann Veronica passed from her aunt to her father, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light. In that case I'll help you. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. You see, I’m selfish. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. ” “Daddy,” said Ann Veronica, “these affairs—being away from home has— cost money. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. ” He took out his watch. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer.
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