” He pronounced this with an air of profound conviction and with his eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. He was there concealed, waiting her return. He could have easily forced it, but preferred a more expeditious mode of reaching the roof which suggested itself to him. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened.
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