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“Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. Alone; not even the dog to warn her, and Hoddy deep in the island somewhere. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor.
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