"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. ” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. ” He stepped back as though he had received a blow. ” “I won’t keep you very long, daddy,” said Ann Veronica. She looked at him curiously. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. ’ For a moment Gerald said nothing at all. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room.
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