" All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. Spurlock grew cold. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. "I thought as much," continued Jonathan. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. "You mistake,—you are mine.
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