“My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank. Only a book detective could dope this out. But with Gosse and the woman in prison here, there is always the chance that the whole affair may be raked up all over again. “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. Not a word passed between them.
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