Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. You are all the beauty in the world. So presently they got into a hansom together, and Ann Veronica sat back feeling very luxurious and pleasant, and looked at the light and stir and misty glitter of the street traffic from under slightly drooping eyelids, while Ramage sat closer to her than he need have done, and glanced ever and again at her face, and made to speak and said nothing. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. Then the storm broke. I've already told you I'm about to take a long journey, and it's more than probable I shall never return.
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