Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. Her confession was still unmade. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. ‘How disappointing,’ mourned Gerald. His revelry, however, was put an end at the expiration of the time mentioned by Jonathan, by the entrance of a posse of constables with Quilt Arnold and Abraham Mendez at their head.
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