“Ann Veronica has never looked quite so well, I think,” said Capes, clinging, because of a preconceived plan, to the suppressed topic. Then she saw him. “These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. I know my son's voice too well. In the corner of the room were two hockey-sticks and a tennis-racket, and upon the walls Ann Veronica, by means of autotypes, had indicated her proclivities in art. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. “Let’s go home. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly.
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