“Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. There is worse to come. She felt flattered. Ann Veronica considered her answer. Stanley went on, “but there are things— there are stories about Ramage. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me.
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