” The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. ” The sensation produced was gratifying enough. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. Unexpectedly he found himself speeding toward the father. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. “If you interfere between us,” the man said, “it will go hardly with you.
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