‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. That is my way, my dear. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. ’ She stopped, for Jack was feebly laughing. He's now in spring-ankle warehouse with Sir Rowland Trenchard.
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