But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, trying to think where they were, trying to get things plain again that had seemed plain enough in the quiet of the night. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. Her fingers opened and the weapon fell from her nerveless grasp. A woman cannot change her soul. No! not even the derivation! But the fashion’s been set and in it you must be. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. It was bare of any furnishings. God knows how you did it. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. ‘I’m following a scent.
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