But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. ” “But—This bolt from the blue! My God! Ann Veronica, you don’t understand. " Sir Rowland caught at a chair for support, and passed his hand across his brow, on which the damp had gathered thickly. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude.
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