Brendon,” Anna said. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. Shoplatch. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. “Didn’t you just get over an ear infection not two weeks ago? You’re asking for another one.
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