“Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. . “Why not? They tell me that London is impossible till after ten, and I want my first impressions to be favourable. The manager twisted his moustache. A young man turned to pay the cabman. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. ‘Never would he have gone to England. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion.
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