She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. Never was there another girl like this one. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. She felt much better. " "I will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily.
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