“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. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. I would that you were my own. I will not trust you. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night.
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