She was unusually soft and gentle in her manner to him. 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. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle.
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