" "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. Could she go through with it? She must. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. Dear God, what a beautiful moment!" The fire went out of Spurlock's eyes and the shadow of hopeless weariness fell upon him.
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