You’d make a good Devil. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. “For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose.
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