He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. "You are not. ” She eyed him scornfully. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly. "I don't think that's likely.
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