Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. She was honest again. ‘You don’t know the whole, child. “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. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. To divide the agony into two spheres so that one would mitigate the other.
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