“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. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. "That's it!" cried Wild when Trenchard concluded. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. She was always initiating petty breaches of discipline.
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