Age is set, impervious to innovations. Ann Veronica’s appearance was brief and undistinguished. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore. "It is too late.
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