. ’ Even as they watched, a shadow passed across one of the apertures. . Mr. No— no, it must never be. ” She thought of her father, and with an effort dismissed him from her mind. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. ‘It is not your affair.
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