Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. " "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. It would hurt no one. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. ’ ‘Parbleu, but I find you excessively rude,’ she snapped, marching to meet him. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on.
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