Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. “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. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. He had the air of a man who has said too much. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you.
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