The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. Capes joined the students at tea, and displayed himself in an impish mood that sometimes possessed him. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. . “Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. The policeman raised his voice, slightly agitated. This time you cannot.
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