"Done!" cried Shotbolt. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. ’ ‘Oui, mais—safe.
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