Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. Mr. Ireton, was appointed to the office, stood with a hammer in one hand, and a punch in the other, near the great stone block, ready to fulfil his duty. “That is as you will,” she said. But I never found any truth in the saying.
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