At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. Wood heard the cry. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. Despite her busy work schedule, Sheila had always been a social person, a talker, a joiner of neighborhood groups, a town council member, a PTA worker, and a thrower of neighborhood coffee klatches. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. " "I tell 'ee what, landlord," observed the old sailor, quietly replenishing his pipe from a huge pewter tobacco-box, as the waterman and Wood quitted the house, "you've said good-b'ye to your friend. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. Chapter XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE After that first horrible moment it was perhaps Anna who was the more selfpossessed.
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