He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. ‘Laisse-moi. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. .
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