Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. “These are her rooms,” she said. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. ‘Both of them so wise after the event. His fingers closed upon her hand. ’ ‘Exactly so. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. She turned there and beckoned. In the midst of the holy place, which he had formerly profaned, lay the body of his unfortunate mother, and he could not help looking upon her untimely end as the retributive vengeance of Heaven for the crime he had committed. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life.
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