“You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. 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. He walked with bent head. He cried out but his father only waved 280 like an automaton until the apparition disappeared. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. “If she is borrowing money,” said Miss Stanley, “she MUST be getting into debt. ” “Afraid!” “Yes.
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