"Leave the room," interposed Kneebone, angrily. ” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. He dissected rather awkwardly and hurriedly, but, on the whole, effectively, and drew with an impatient directness that made up in significance what it lacked in precision. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink.
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