"Was he divorced, do you mean?"
"No, but he got himself mixed up in a divorce case. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. It was among artistic people."
Ann Veronica was silent for a while.
"I thought every one had heard," said Miss Klegg. "Or I wouldn't have said anything about it."
"I suppose all men," said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, "get some such entanglement. And, anyhow, it doesn't matter to us." She turned abruptly at right angles to the path they followed. "This is my way back to my side of the Park," she said.
"I thought you were coming right across the Park."
"Oh no," said Ann Veronica; "I have some work to do. I just wanted a breath of air. And they'll shut the gates presently. It's not far from twilight."
Part 9
She was sitting brooding over her fire about ten o'clock that night when a sealed and registered envelope was brought up to her.
She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. The letter began: "MY DEAREST GIRL,--I cannot let you do this foolish thing--"
She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. Instantly she seized the poker and made a desperate effort to get them out again. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter. The twenty pounds burned with avidity.
She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand.
"By Jove!" she said, standing up at last, "that about finishes it, Ann Veronica!"