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The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She was, she guessed, close to the library. ‘A devil is just what you are. He had said so. There are some papers I have to look through to-night—important papers. At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. "Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it.
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