Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. In truth, she would quite like to have him rescue her. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. In this state, he contrived to get the poor black's hand into his mouth, and nearly bit off one of his fingers before the sufferer could be rescued.
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