Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. “Will you help me?” he asked. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. A shaft of searing heat plunged downward. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams.
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