Spurlock bent his head to the rail. Gianfrancesco had been talked into the arrangement only because the drivers that had handled the job for generations were sick or dead. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. She fought him at first, screaming at him, but he did not relent. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. "Suppose we go and have tea? I'd like to take you to a teahouse I know, but we'll go to the Victoria instead. I never could. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive.
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