" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ” “Then how have you managed?” “Bother!” said Ann Veronica to herself, and tried not to look guilty. She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. ” They eyed her incredulously. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in.
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