” “Thanks to me,” he repeated, puzzled. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. "All right," he said. I’m sorry. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. 48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. Capes became rigid and adhesive.
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