"Beat down their blades," cried the Master; "no bloodshed. So presently they got into a hansom together, and Ann Veronica sat back feeling very luxurious and pleasant, and looked at the light and stir and misty glitter of the street traffic from under slightly drooping eyelids, while Ramage sat closer to her than he need have done, and glanced ever and again at her face, and made to speak and said nothing. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. “From what you saw from the opposite pavement then, it is certain that some person who was able to move about was in this room only a minute or so before you entered it?” “That is so,” Anna answered. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged.
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