You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. You creep around in a nun’s habit, peering into a private ballroom. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. This vessel is now in the river, off Wapping. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. ’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss.
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