In a moment they were in the street outside. On a high chair behind a raised counter the stipendiary’s substitute regarded her malevolently over his glasses. "It is too late. "Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. His hand flew across the paper. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica.
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