‘Have no fear,’ he uttered soothingly, reaching out to pat her free hand. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Her sister Alice seemed to have developed a religious sense away there in Yorkshire, and made appeals that had no meaning for Ann Veronica’s mind. Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up.
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