The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool.
“But this is a surprise!” said Ramage. “This is wonderful! I’ve been feeling that you had vanished from my world. Have you been away from Morningside Park?”
“I’m not interrupting you?”
“You are. Splendidly. Business exists for such interruptions. There you are, the best client’s chair.”
Ann Veronica sat down, and Ramage’s eager eyes feasted on her.
“I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. “I confess it.”
She had not, she reflected, remembered how prominent his eyes were.
“I want some advice,” said Ann Veronica.
“Yes?”
“You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living.”