"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. It was the expression of Miss Klegg’s face that put the idea into Ann Veronica’s head of showing Manning at the College one day, an idea which she didn’t for some reason or other carry out for a fortnight. ‘I am not French in the least, bête. The doctor drew out the contents hopefully.
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