Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. She foraged about in her mind for some satisfying equivalent which would express in English this gurgling drone the Chinese called a language. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear.
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