So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. “Ann Veronica has never looked quite so well, I think,” said Capes, clinging, because of a preconceived plan, to the suppressed topic. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury.
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