There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. “I feel shabby and disgraced. I want very much to do something for women. Earles,” Anna said. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life.
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