CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. Ramage. ” He shook her diminutive hand. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. He did not even care for his own inheritance at this place in Wodeham Water. ” She lifted steadfast eyes to him. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away.
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