‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. This intercourse, which had been planned to warm Ann Veronica to a familiar affection with Ramage, was certainly warming Ramage to a constantly deepening interest in Ann Veronica.
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