Ennison,” she said, letting her fingers rest in his. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. . Somehow logic could not explain her. How old are you?’ ‘I have nineteen years, and it is quite unimportant. I am no exception. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. Ann Veronica decided to be more explicit.
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