Anna felt that her words had become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which she had intended to impart. “We have scarcely mentioned your name. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. If you had arrived ten minutes later, or if there hadn't been an iron bar in the chimney, that hindered my progress, I should have been beyond your reach. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. F. There is a small yewtree west of the church.
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