"Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. “I will go,” he said. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood.
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