Ann Veronica, with a sigh at the cost of hospitality, made a hasty negotiation for an extra tea and for a fire in the groundfloor apartment, and preened herself carefully for the interview. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. It was the gallows. “But I still think of my old foster brothers and sisters. Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated.
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