Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty. Remember what the conjuror said. I am going to smoke a little here, and then I shall go to the study. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. A question next arose whether the prisoner could be executed under the existing warrant,—some inclining to one opinion, some to another. You haven’t had it on your mind all this time?” “I have rather. ” “Do you think that it was wise of you, or kind to come?” she asked quietly. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand.
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