Wood. ‘I do not understand you. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. ” “I promise,” Annabel declared. Her head rose. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. “Indeed, no,” he answered. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do.
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