Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. He winced from the wasp-like sting. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. 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. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. She hoped fervently that Martin had not divulged his crush to Brown.
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