She twisted her fingers tightly. ‘I hope I do not understand you. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. “I will make it possible,” he cried. She had never seen her sitting on tables nor heard her discussing theology, and had failed to observe that the graceful figure was a natural one and not due to ably chosen stays. “Well, hello there. ’ ‘Uh-oh,’ came from her infuriating suitor and his eyes dropped to the weapon she was dragging from the holster under her petticoat. “Eight, Cavendish Square. ” Ann Veronica looked at the mildly pensive gray eyes and the comfortable, rather refined face with a penetrating curiosity. .
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