” “I’ve been clearing up,” said Ann Veronica, brightly. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. CHAPTER I. The gong will go at seven-thirty. Shortly to be executed. Because every mistake you make, for every new mishap, Joe, I take a finger. No more scuffling. We’re hedged about with discretions— and all this furniture—and successes! We are successful at last! Successful! But the mountains, dear! We won’t forget the mountains, dear, ever.
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