He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty. The inn was a military haunt. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially.
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