That’s the difficulty. The man was my husband. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. He had one son, who had been co-educated, and three daughters with peculiarly jolly red hair that Ann Veronica found adorable. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. On that night, I surrendered myself to Jonathan Wild, and became— what I am. Very romantic and all that. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Amongst them was a revolver.
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