It was a pity people had to eat food. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy. Who? Could it be Gerald? Quickly, she looked back at Gosse’s face, and found him frowning. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. XII JACK SHEPPARD A Romance BY W. He’s waiting.
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