“Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. “Ann Veronica is looking very well, don’t you think?” he said, a little awkwardly. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. I should like Mr. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. “I wonder,” said Ann Veronica at last, “if I am beautiful? I wonder if I shall ever shine like a light, like a translucent goddess?— “I wonder— “I suppose girls and women have prayed for this, have come to this—In Babylon, in Nineveh. At that a new element poured into her excitement, an element of wild disgust and terror. Please don’t tell anyone, mister.
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