It must have cut him. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. When the doctor came in—he had just finished his breakfast—O'Higgins rose and presented his card. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. Ann Veronica found herself walking back down the Avenue that had just been the scene of her first proposal beside her aunt, and speculating for the first time in her life about that lady’s mental attitudes. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary.
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