A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. He declined to come in. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. “He writes very well,” said Ann Veronica. Sebastian looked up and stood. We had better have it over. Annabel laughed a little uneasily.
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