“What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. ‘Soi-disant? Then he is not Valade?’ ‘How can I know?’ she countered crossly. She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. ‘That piece of information seemed to interest him very much.
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