‘Yes, I know. " Sir Rowland made no reply, but angrily quickened his pace. ‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. As for the patient, his decision was immediate.
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