Part 2 Ann Veronica carried a light but business-like walking-stick. Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. The service had not proceeded far, when she was greatly disturbed by the entrance of a person who placed himself opposite her, and sought to attract her attention by a number of little arts, surveying her, as he did so, with a very impudent and offensive stare. “Dear John,” she whispered.
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