She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. The future was not so black. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. No, I thank you. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. " "I have often conjured up some frightful vision of the dead," murmured the knight, "but I never dreamed of an interview with the living.
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