Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. CHAPTER XXIII. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. “I knew of course that you were at the Montressor’s, but I had no idea that it was a music hall party afterwards. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. Go up and get my daughter so we can have some homemade pie. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion.
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