Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. The rear of the party was brought up by a large, powerfully-built man, with a bluff, honest, but rugged countenance, slashed with many a cut and scar, and stamped with that surly, sturdy, bull-dog-like look, which an Englishman always delights to contemplate, because he conceives it to be characteristic of his countrymen. But this was important. “You see, I will take your arm. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. " "I've just bethought me of a crib as'll serve their turn," interposed Sharples, "at any rate, they'll be out o' the vay, and as safe as two chicks in a coop. What a pig she was. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart.
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