Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. It was one of the most educational disillusionments in Ann Veronica’s career. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do. Wood, sharply. ’ ‘Well, but he was a deserter, you see. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night.
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