F. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. “There is something which I must say to you. ‘Gerald, this is a nun’s habit. Her heartbeat quickened. “You must arrest me!” she gasped, breathlessly, insisting insanely on a point already carried; “you shall!” The police-station at the end seemed to Ann Veronica like a refuge from unnamable disgraces. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. Wait a little; rest.
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