She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. That’s why I come to tell you. He was a just man, and he did not care to start any thunder which was not based upon fairness. To perdition with them all. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. “It rests with them by the nature of things.
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