“But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. ” She threw away the end of her cigarette. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs.
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