’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. ’ ‘I thought so,’ Gerald said with satisfaction. . Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. Dollis Hill revisited. Perhaps she was.
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