" "I should think not," observed Jonathan, who had some practice in the knight's moods, and knew how to humour him. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. She sensed that he was looking for her. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. Mr. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. .
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