CHAPTER XV. ” To remain, she felt, was to concede everything. Her heart thudded. ” “Why can’t you take me with you?” He begged. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head. The world, perhaps, will be educated out of its idea of fixed standards. It’s no good. ” “I do it—of my own free will,” said Ann Veronica, kissing his hand again. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. ” Her aunt answered in a low voice: “I was engaged to him, dear, for seven years, and then he died. Burn your palette and your easel. She saw his face change, how he regretted. I meant to lie to you.
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