‘And then you will be obliged to remain in France,’ she pointed out. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. ” “I positively insist upon knowing,” she declared cheerfully. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. “Delicious!” she murmured. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica.
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