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He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. To reach the door they had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr. Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. The chapel was crowded to excess. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave.
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