She stepped backwards. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. ” He smiled at her. Wild, and his uncle, Sir Rowland Trenchard. “You said you were in love with me,” said Ann Veronica; “I wanted to explain —” “I said I loved and wanted you. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously.
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