Part 3 At last the evening was over, and Capes and his wife had gone down to see Mr. 95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. ” “I thought I explained—” “Come home!” Ann Veronica shrugged her shoulders. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. Anna looked at her, startled. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t. ” The tired woman shut her eyes tightly for a moment, and then looked with them at Ann Veronica. But no more of that. Jonathan had not deceived him. Capes joined the students at tea, and displayed himself in an impish mood that sometimes possessed him. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald.
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