“I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. So she built a shrine. Wood's at Dollis Hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself.
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