’ ‘It’s no use blaming me, Gerald,’ uttered Roding, shrugging helplessly as his senior turned questioning eyes on him. ” He digested her statement as part threat and part promise. ” “And what do you think I ought to do?” “Exactly!” He lifted a paper-weight and dabbed it gently down again. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Part 3 The call Ann Veronica paid with her aunt that afternoon had at first much the same relation to the Widgett conversation that a plaster statue of Mr.
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