The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. “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. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. The imbecile. She is something different. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit.
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