Just as Hogarth got to the door, the turnkey stopped him. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. I have only one question to ask you. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. It's only a gentleman come to offer you his hand. He must be more or less of an age with this man.
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