The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. But he reckoned without his host. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. ‘Odd sort of a nun. ” Ann Veronica looked at the mildly pensive gray eyes and the comfortable, rather refined face with a penetrating curiosity. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself.
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