She remained on guard. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. 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. She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that. . I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. “They all catch on,” she said. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. “It was perhaps my fault.
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