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“You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. Only of course I must begin something else at once. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. Lucy marveled at the billiards table and the sauna.
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